The Scientist's Daughter
by The Dark Ibis
Summary: Annabelle Green can't remember parts of her past. Living with an abusive father who's completely driven by science, she assumes her amnesia is for the best. But suddenly she finds herself miles away from everything she knows after living through an explosion that destroys her home. Soon, Annabelle finds herself face to face with some of Earth's mightiest heroes.
1. Chapter 1

_Tick. _Near the corner of my room, an analog clock read 2:14 am, the long hands casting shadows against the thick numbers and causing me to drift from my thoughts for the time being. _Tick. _I hadn't been able to sleep for days now, the nights dragging on endlessly as I waited, nothing else sensible to do but stare at the wall. _Tick. _I supposed I could have gotten up to fetch a book, or a notebook, or a drawing pad, or anything else to keep me occupied, but for some reason I felt as if I was glued to my mattress. _Tick._ I still tasted the mint of my toothpaste as I ran my tongue across the smooth surfaces of my teeth, my eyes wandering to the empty spot on the wall where a TV had been not a month earlier. That would have been a nice pass-time, though apparently I had lost my privileges to own a television. _Tick. _I clenched my fists, balling up my comforter between my fingers in annoyance as I let my attention stray from the wall, instead focusing it on the dark wood night table by the side of my bed. It was clean and organized, down to every drawer, the only things on the surface being a glass of water, a lamp, two sleeping pills, and a picture frame. _Tick. _The lamp was turned on, bathing the room in soft, dim light. I strained my eyes to make out the figures in the picture in the frame, the light of the lamp reflecting directly off the face of the person I wanted to see. I unclenched my fist and stretched my hand out to pinch the edge of the frame, turning it a few inches until the reflection had moved. _Tick._

The woman in the photo was my late mother, the picture taken in October from twenty six years ago, in a dense wooded area near a lake. The beautifully colored fall leaves fell around her face and body, the picture captured before any of them could drift to the ground. They were stuck in a frozen fragment of time. _Tick. _The shot was snapped as my mother was laughing, her features bright as she did her best to smile through the giggles that had probably been erupting through her throat, trying so desperately to escape through her lips. She looked beautiful, in a way that I had never been able to see her. _Tick._

My father was the one who had taken the picture, determined to log all of the time he spent with my mother in the days they first met. There were several other snapshots similar to this, but this was my favorite by far out of the bunch. Her olive skin was glowing with health, her deep chocolate brown hair blown in wisps in every direction. A leaf had lodged itself in her tangled hair, the color mirroring that of her dark hazel eyes almost perfectly. The picture itself was slightly blurry with movement, my father's finger covering the top left corner. It was so imperfect; It had been shunned out of my father's collection of photos...but I loved it. _Tick._

My mother and father had married two years after this picture was taken, and a year later I was brought into this world I now called home. I was lucky enough to be blessed with many of my mother's features, except for the fact that my eyes were a deep emerald green and my hair fell in curly waves. My skin was the same olive as hers, though paler due to my lack of exposure to the sun, and my hair was the same dark brown. She had been a short woman, always looking so small when standing next to the towering frame of my father, who was nearly six foot two. I fell at a height between the two of them, barely reaching five foot six. I wasn't short, necessarily, but I wasn't tall either. I was just average. There was nothing special about me. _Tick._

It wasn't long after I was born that my mother became sick, her smile fading faster as the days rushed forward, until she was far too weak to smile much at all. None the less, she always stayed positive no matter what she faced. When I was five we moved to Tokyo, Japan, settling into a large house nearly forty minutes away from the city. The building itself had been granted to my father through his business. He was a scientist, and his experiments on enhancing the productivity of cells had made headlines all over the world, catching the attention of a philanthropist and fellow scientist in Tokyo named Dr. Nagisa Yashimoto. She was the one who had given the grant to my father, and while she was a very stern woman, she was fairly pleasant to be around. _Tick. _After we moved she visited often, checking in on my father and pressing him to do better than he ever had before. My mother didn't like Nagisa, though, due to what she called her 'abruptness and rash personality'. So, during Nagisa's weekly visits to our household, my mother stayed secluded in her room, awaiting the moment when I would gently rap my knuckles against her door to tell her that Nagisa had left. Week after week I would receive my mother's grand smile as she opened the door and celebrated Nagisa's absence, to the point where it became almost a joke for us. My mother would make ridiculous excuses to leave as soon as Nagisa stepped in the door, often making me laugh.

'The potbellied pig in my room needs to be fed.'

'I have to check on my closet door hinges.'

'Did you hear that? I should go check that out. I hope it isn't the madman rummaging around again...'

No matter what, she always managed to come up with a different excuse every time, always lightening the mood, even though Nagisa usually got frustrated. Soon, though, my mother began to retire to her room even without the presence of Nagisa, disappearing and not returning sometimes for hours. _Tick. _Those hours melded into days, and eventually she didn't come out at all. It became a rarity to see my mother out around the house. When she did come out I cherished my time with her as much as I possibly could before she disappeared again. My mother was the most important thing to me, even at that young age. _Tick._

As my father's research progressed more and more, important figures became bored and unimpressed with his 'old fashioned' or 'ridiculous' ideas, one by one dropping their sponsors and grants until my father wasn't being paid at all. He pretended for a while, for my mother and I's sake, that everything was fine, and that he was only going through a short spurt of financial trouble. _Tick. _Soon, though, I began to notice the internal changes in my father, changes that were corrupting him from the inside out. He began to get angry with my mother and I more often, his temper easily sparked by ridiculously simple issues that he should have been able to brush off. But for whatever reason, my father became incapable of self control, disrupting the simple family life we had achieved. _Tick._

I hated abuse more than I hated anything else in the world, not only because I had been through it, but because I had to watch my mother go through it. Even in her last few weeks of life my father wouldn't give her the break she deserved, slapping her around like she was some sort of useless rag doll. Even then I was too stupid to stand up to him...even to help my mother who I loved more than anything. It wasn't until after she died, a few weeks after my twelfth birthday, that I began to realize how much of a horrible person my father had been.

My mother had gone out of the house, a rare event, to visit her mother in Russia. My father received a call a few hours later, and though he wouldn't let me hear anything in the conversation, he later told me that the plane she had flown on had crashed. It was a private plane, he said, and no one would even realize her death except us. No media would cover this one, he insisted.

After mother died, my father began to use me as a test subject for his crazy experiments, sure that if he could prove that they worked on a human being, someone would begin to sponsor him again. But he was wrong. No one even gave him a second glance, even though I was suffering through procedures and working as hard as I could to help my father. My father was cruel, driven completely by science. To him, I was nothing more than another Guinea pig for him to work with. Still...I couldn't stand up to him. I never could. There was something about the way he had always talked down to me, so bitter and disgusted, that made me believe I was worthless. _Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. TICK._

I fumbled around the top of my dresser with one shaky hand, wrapping my fingers around the edge of the picture frame and thrusting it off of the table, where it hit the clock on the wall before sending both of the objects to the ground with a great crash. I waited in the quiet for a few moments, awaiting yet another annoying tick from the clock. Nothing. I was in complete silence. And, as much as I thought I would enjoy it...I hated it. I let a faint sigh escape my lips as I collapsed against my pillow, tugging the sheets up and over my head until the soft fabric had almost completely drown out the light from my lamp, which I was far too upset to turn off. Under the covers the light was dampened, though not by much. Still, I felt much safer under the heavy comforter, just like a child who was afraid of the monsters under her bed. Except my monster wasn't under the bed; he was a few doors down, sleeping peacefully in his own room. I was twenty three years old, and I was hiding from a monster. Sometimes I felt like such a baby. Squeezing my eyes shut, I plunged back into thinking about the details of my past, something I always did when I felt lost. It was almost like reading a storybook, the way I replayed everything I had gone through repeatedly in my head. I remembered everything. Well, everything that I could. Many memories were blocked off, for some reason. It was like they had been pushed back into the dark space of my mind, unreachable. But I was determined. Maybe if I could continue to dwell on my past, the lost memories would just pop up again...or so I liked to believe. After all, those things that I couldn't remember were only large black masses of missing space and time. If I could push the black away, clear the fog surrounding what was lost, I would be able to remember.

The only people I began to trust in the world as I grew up were what society today calls 'superheroes', and I went through a phase of complete hero adoration. Strong, brave, attractive, smart...these were all positive traits that made the superheroes that I so loved. I had spent hours as a child stretched across my bedroom floor reading 'Flash' comics, which I acquired through my older cousin whom I had never actually met. There was something about the concept of heroes that seemed so thrilling and glorious...something that I craved. I was repeatedly told that The Flash wasn't real, and there was no need to waste my time reading about him, but I just couldn't stop. Something as exciting as a hero was too irresistible to resist, especially for someone like me.

I had another cousin on my father's side, who was the closest thing I had to a friend, visiting a few times a year to keep me company. My aunt was always so kind to me when she came, bringing my cousin with her, though her visits were becoming fewer and fewer every year. Her and my father didn't get along well, and I had always known that the only reason she came was for me. My cousin, Portia, was the one who had first brought me a Captain America comic, something that she had found in the basement of our grandma's house. Always thinking positively, she told me that there was no way my father would disapprove of this comic like he had the others, because this superhero was no fake; he was real. I did my research on the subject, searching and searching until I couldn't possibly find any more information. He had been real, yes, which gave me hope. He had died in a war long ago, but just the fact that he had existed was enough for me. As my father continued to use me for his tests, I began to imagine what it must have been like to be rescued by such a hero...and somehow that made things easier, for the time being.

My father dropped his 'crazy' scientific ideas for medicinal research when I was sixteen, turning over a new leaf and letting hope into his life again. He couldn't shake his abusive habits, though, but I was slowly growing more used to them as the days went on. Another day, another bruise. That was how life worked, I thought. I continued to be tested on, but the fact that I was helping create medicine for the greater population eased my nerves a little. So long as I was helping someone else in the long run, I was semi-happy. Gaining the support of Nagisa yet again, my father started the medical company 'TG Medicines', a medical supplier for nearby Japanese hospitals. The TG stood for Theodor Green, though his full name was Harold Theodor Green. Why my father chose to use his middle name instead of his first I never knew, but I guessed it was a way for him to detach himself from his old habits...most of them, at least. He didn't want to be the unpopular 'Dr. Harry Green' anymore. He wanted to start fresh.

Something happened when I was twenty one years old, though this is one of the memories that had been blacked out in my mind. I remembered taking a trip to New York for one of my father's business meetings - _Was it really New York? _- and I vaguely recalled some sort of battle, though every time I tried to think of more details my head spun and ached. I wanted so badly to remember and fill the empty chunk of time that was missing from my memories, but I just didn't have the willpower to do it. I began to develop many health problems after that time, chronic headaches and an irregular heartbeat, along with extreme exhaustion. I couldn't sleep at night, yet I felt so tired during the day that it was hard to function. Something was wrong, and there was nothing I could do about it. I carried on day by day, trying to think of the positive things. My father had been using me less and less for experiments during the time, which was a plus. I could only hope that one day he would come up with something to help me in my ever weakening state.

It was during these difficult times in my life that I discovered more of the 'real' superheroes of the world, who I learned of through the media that replayed their courageous stories. At the time, that was exactly what I needed. Day after day I would watch the news, trying to catch a glimpse of these amazing heroes, and my hopes started to rise once again. The smile returned to my face. Soon I began to write, letter after letter, sending them off into the world in hopes that one of my heroes would receive them. It didn't matter that I didn't know them, or that they had never saved my life; I trusted them more than I trusted myself, and I would do anything to become a part of the family they seemed to be, or at least pretend that I was. As long as I pretended, I was fine. But my wishing and hopes and letters always amounted to nothing. These heroes were still so much greater than I, yet I expected them to respond to me as an equal? I wanted them to come save me from my boring existence, scoop me up and take me away from all of the hardship I had endured. I believed it would happen, for a while, until I realized I was being foolish. No one even bothered to write me a letter back. After all of the letters I wrote, which amounted to ninety six, I counted, none of them were acknowledged. I would wait for father to get the mail every week, hoping that maybe, just maybe, one of my idols would write me something heartfelt. But I never got anything; not one word. Still, I continued to hope, though by now the hope had dwindled to almost nothing. No one was coming for me.

In one of her visits, coming just after I returned from my 'trip' to New York, my cousin had informed me that Captain America had been found, alive, and I found myself overjoyed. In a life where I felt I had nothing, I suddenly had something. I would have done anything to even meet him, though I knew my chances were slim. He was the recipient of the majority of my letters in the end, even though he hadn't responded after the first couple. Why would he want to respond to me? He seemed to emit so much kindness and grace, which was why I liked him so much, but I started to think it was just an act. After all of the letters I sent him, he should have responded to at least one of them; I got nothing. I lost hope again, though still writing a letter or two to my heroes to keep me going when I was feeling lower than usual. I was a big believer that everyone in the world had a purpose, and I assumed and accepted that mine had been nearly fulfilled. I was my father's puppet, and I told myself that must have been why I was born. I was born to serve.

After what had probably been a half an hour of thinking I emerged from my sheets, glancing over at the night table and resting my eyes on the sleeping pills that were laying near the wooden edge. I contemplated taking them for a few moments and finally scooped them off the surface, sighing quietly as I slipped them into my mouth, chasing them down with a large gulp of water. I hated taking pills, but sometimes they were necessary. I hadn't slept a wink in nearly three days, and the sleep deprivation was starting to take its toll on me. I needed to be alert to somewhat protect myself from my father, and being so tired wasn't helping me out so much. I settled into my pillow and pulled my covers over my head again, waiting as the pills slowly worked their magic and my eyelids began to grow heavy with much needed sleep.

"Tomorrow will be better." I whispered to myself, just as I did every night. Deep inside I knew this wouldn't be true, but something about saying it made me feel like there was a chance it would be. I put a hand over my heart and thought the words over again in my head, the quick beats calming me down. I guess I was just an optimistic person...most of the time. And in my situation, I needed to be. I didn't know how I would survive if I wasn't. "Goodnight, mother." I whispered into my sheets, my words so soft that I could barely hear them. Even though my mother was gone, I couldn't resist saying goodnight to her every night. Because in a way, she was still there watching me, protecting me. I knew that.

I woke up with a start in the middle of the afternoon the next day, sweat beading on my forehead and goosebumps running down my arms like little bugs crawling under my skin. I sat up and pulled my knees to my chest, waiting for the nausea that had suddenly settled over me to pass.

"What is this?" I asked myself, quietly, my blood pulsing in my arms and legs. I turned my stiff neck to look at my night table, where a little sticky note had been tacked to the side. With one shaky hand I lifted the paper, reading the words over a few times. 'Going out for the day. Won't be home until late. Tell me how the pills worked out when I get back!' I crumpled the sheet in my fist and chucked it across the room, throwing my legs over the side of the bed and standing up. The pills had been a test; just another experiment. And now, like always, I was suffering from the after effects. Why did this always happen? Why was this happening to _me?_

なぜわたしなの _?_

At that point, for whatever reason, I snapped. After all of the years of being patient, all of the years of listening and putting up with everything, I had lost it. All of my sanity was gone. And so, knowing my father was gone for the time being, I tore through the house. Angry, upset, and very confused, I dug through all of my father's files and all of his things, leaving a mess in my path. I trudged down the hall towards his lab room, ready to do my worst. I was done.

Maybe it was the insanity speaking, or maybe it was common sense, but when I entered the room and found all of his things, I knew I couldn't live with or near my father ever again. He had done so much to me and I had been so willing to receive it, like a innocent child, and suddenly I couldn't take it anymore. I pulled out his drawers and ripped pages out of his journals, angry tears building in my eyes until I couldn't see anymore. Frustrated, I plopped myself down by the wall and put my head in my hands, sobbing more than I ever had before. What was I doing? This was my home where I had lived my entire life. I wouldn't survive out in the world by myself. I couldn't possibly function in society. "I'm so stupid," I whispered to myself, lifting my head from my hands. "How could I do all this when all he really..." I trailed off, a drawer that I had pulled out onto the floor catching my eye. It was filled with what looked to be dozens of letters, all sealed and tied together with rubber bands nicely. I sniffled and wiped my eyes, walking on my hands and knees over to the area to examine the stacks. I picked one of the stray letters out of the pile and read the neatly scrawled lettering on the envelope.

'To Captain America'

Another sob caught in my throat as I read the words over and over again, though I only needed to read it once to know who had written it. I had. I held the letter to my chest and glanced at the others in the pile, all written out in my same handwriting, and all addressed to the superheroes that I had tried to contact. None of them even had stamps. They had never been sent; they had never been opened. All of my years of grieving over no responses, and they hadn't even been read? That put me over the edge. I stuffed the one letter into my pocket and stood up, stomping towards my father's desk and grabbing a match that had been placed near the edge. In the corner of the room was some sort of bomb, something that my father had been working on for some time. He had long since given up on it, though, since he could never get it to detonate. I was going to try, and hopefully succeed. Lighting the match and tossing at the bomb, I braced myself for explosion, though I was faced with nothing. The match bounced off the edge of the metal case and fell to the floor, still lit somehow. I strode over to the bomb and screamed at it in anger, as if the shrill sound of my voice would detonate it.

"Why don't you work!?" I screamed, wanting so badly for this entire place, and myself, to be gone from this world. Some things never belonged, and the things I wanted to destroy where some of those. I wanted everything to be gone...forever. Crying yet again, I grasped the sides of the bomb in my hands and held it tight to my chest, screaming up at the ceiling. I had truly lost my mind, so much so that I didn't even realize the detonation of the bomb in my hands until my back hit against the wall across from me, my ears ringing and my head spinning. Flashes of light spotted around my vision as the floor rumbled, the walls around me crumbling as the bomb set to work. It really was a brilliant design, triggering larger explosions after the initial one that had knocked me over. My father always had been one for flashy devices. I let my head fall back against the wall behind me as my world crashed around me, taking me with it. I waited for my death calmly. My life had been a waste, and I didn't mind ending it...especially not like this. For once in my life, I had hurt my father as much as he had hurt me, most likely, in the aftermath of this explosion. All of his life work would be gone, but in that moment I didn't care. He deserved it. I was done with the torture and the sadness he brought upon me. I was only twenty three, yet I was ready to die. Still, I was doing this to get revenge for all of the things my father had done. I was doing this for my mother.

No one was going to save me, and I knew that. I had accepted that a long time ago, though I didn't want to admit it to myself until now. I realized this was the end for me. Right then, as the fire exploded around me as if in slow motion, I accepted my fate. Near the end I thought of the letter in my pocket, wishing that this one, or at least one of them, would have been sent. That would have been the only proof of my existence. My existence, though horrible, was the last thing I thought of as my mind fizzed and went blank. I left the world thinking of the one person I could pretend to love, and the one and only person who could possibly put a smile on my face as I died. Captain America. The last thing I thought of was his letter, which was stuffed in my back pocket. That letter and I would die together, both lost.

_Dear Captain America,_

_There is so much I want to say to you, though I'm not exactly sure how to. First let me start of by saying I'm really glad you didn't die in the war years ago, because the world now needs you. It may sound silly, but I think I need you too. Even though I don't know you...and you don't know me...I feel very close to you. I've had a hard life, but it's been easier since people like you came to my attention. You and the other heroes have been my inspiration, and my will to keep going. I know it isn't probable that you will even read this letter, but if you do, will you please come save me? It's selfish of me to ask, but asking is the only way I can stay hopeful about my situation. My father has been abusive...far beyond that of any abuse I have ever heard of, and I can't think of any other way to get out. If it isn't too much to ask...I would really like to meet you, or even talk to you on the phone. At least that would be a way to make me hopeful again. I think of you always, and I hope you will at least remember this letter. That's all I can really ask for._

_Sincerely, Annabelle Green._


	2. Chapter 2

Car exhaust. I hadn't smelled it all too often, but I knew the smell well. The fumes that leaked from the back of a vehicle had a way of staining the sky and making the air near every big city reek of putrid oil. I hated it. So, when I awoke to the overwhelming smell of exhaust, I immediately felt uneasy. I was laying on a hard surface, every inch of my body aching and my head throbbing. I eased myself carefully into a sitting position before hesitantly opening my eyes to figure out where I was, and why the area reeked so badly. I was sitting on the rough pavement of a sleek road, the moon high in the sky and casting a faint light down on the white lines of the street so that they reflected back. I took a painful deep breath in, letting the putrid smelling air fill my lungs, and then breathed it out again in disgust. I had no idea where I was, nor how I got there. I eased myself up, using a small sign by the side of the road to help me into a standing position. From what I could see of myself in the dark, I was battered and bruised, dry blood caking my skin in various places. I didn't appear to still be bleeding, though, which I took as a good sign. I very vaguely remembered what had happened back in my father's lab, nausea settling over me as I thought about the encounter. No, I couldn't think about that now. I needed to find my way to a hospital, or back to my home, whichever I stumbled across first. I turned myself around to examine the other end of the road, a surprising view greeting my aching eyes. Just a little further down the road, lit up brightly like decorative Christmas lights, were the lights of a big city; what city I was seeing, I wasn't sure. That explained the overwhelming smell of exhaust. I started forward towards the blinding lights, my body screaming at me in pain as I went, every step sending a rush of painful shocks up my legs.

It took a while to reach the city, which welcomed me with an even greater wave of exhaust, followed by the honking of car horns. I forced myself over to a nearby bench and sat down, taking in my surroundings as I did some deep breathing to ease some of the pain swelling through my body. A building from behind me emitted a faint thumping sound, most likely the beat of club music, making my head throb even more. I tilted my head back to examine the sky, which was nearly hidden behind all of the large buildings around me. Judging by the light and the position of the moon I guessed it to be one or two in the morning, the fluorescent light from the light post near me casting my lonely shadow against the sidewalk. I was alone, again, yet this loneliness was something different entirely, more daunting and frightening. I didn't know where I was, or why. I should have been dead.

Not sure what to do with myself and my wandering mind, I lifted my feet up to examine the damage that had been done. They were dark black and rough, an indication that I had recently done a whole lot of walking. I didn't remember walking anywhere, though, unless my body had taken control when I was out and brought me here...wherever 'here' was. This seemed illogical, but it was the only thing I could possibly go off of at the moment. I couldn't have gone far, especially not in my condition. I had survived an explosion that should have killed me...though I was still skeptical on whether that was possible or not. In all honesty, I considered believing that I was some sort of ghost, tied to Earth through my agonizingly hard life. Isn't that what ghosts did? I dismissed this idea, though, when I lifted my hand to my heart and found it beating heavily and irregularly, just as it always did. Letting out a silent sigh of relief, I took a moment to examine my surroundings again. If I was going to get anywhere from here, I would have to at least figure out where I was. If I was lucky, someone nearby would be willing to direct me to a hospital.

If I hadn't gone far I was probably in Tokyo, which fit the 'big city' surroundings. I hadn't been to Tokyo recently, so I hadn't an idea of what it looked like. The city mapped out in front of me seemed accurate enough. I stood up and set off down the street, ignoring the heavy pang of pain radiating through my feet as I began looking for some sort of help. Many stores and buildings were shut, closed for the night, though I was bound to find at least one open establishment. Luckily for me, our housekeepers had been Japanese, and they had taught me enough through the years that I could speak it nearly fluently. If I needed help or directions, I would be able to ask for them. This fact eased my mind ever so slightly, though my other thoughts were running wild with worry. If my father knew I was still alive, he would come after me and punish me for all I had done, I was sure. He had to know all of the mess was my doing, and he was sure to hate me even more for it. I would get more than a few slaps for this one. I figured it would be inevitable. I accepted the fact that I would be found.

Soon I came across a large store, one of the only few that was still lit up from the inside. The sign read 'Candy Love', etched and lit up in frilly pink lettering. I ducked inside quickly, the bell over the door chiming as I entered, the loud ring startling me. I took a deep breath to calm myself and then stepped farther inside, meeting the eyes of a middle aged Asian woman who was smiling brightly in my direction.

"Hello." she spoke sweetly, her smile not wavering a bit. I nodded at her politely and made my way over to the counter, trying to ignore all of the delicious looking candy on shelves around me. I had always been a sucker for candy; it was part of my childhood that I could never let go. I cleared my throat and looked at the woman.

"Ittai koko wa doko da?" I asked, praying that my pronunciation was entirely correct. I hadn't spoken Japanese in a while, and I was sure my translation was a little rusty. The woman looked at me for a while without saying anything, as if I had just performed a magic trick that she didn't understand. I started wondering if I had said it wrong, ready to open my mouth and try again, when she spoke up.

"I may be Asian, but I don't speak...whatever that was." she said harshly, that bright smile of hers fading. Her words had an eastern twinge to them, which surprised me.

"It was Japanese." I answered, slowly, as if confirming to myself that had been the language I was speaking in.

"Yeah, I don't speak Japanese. I was born in America."

"Then why are you here?" I was starting to get confused, my head pounding painfully in my head as I tried to think of a solution to this odd situation. Why would a woman working in Tokyo only speak English? Didn't she want to talk to her customers?

"Because, this is America. Are you okay? You seem a little disoriented." She had slight concern lining her voice, though not the kind of concern one would have for a family member. She was most likely concerned that I was insane, due to my disastrous look, and that I was going to rob her candy shop. It took me a minute before I fully understood what she said, though, and I had to replay her words over in my head before fully comprehending them.

"We're...in America." I repeated, ignoring her eye rolling. "What city?" There was no possible way I could have walked all the way from Japan to America in one night, assuming that it really had only been a few hours. Then again, America was behind Japan by thirteen or so hours, depending on the city. Still, my being here was physically impossible. The only way I could have possibly ended up in America would be that I had been out for longer than I thought...though still the thought of me walking here didn't seem very logical at all. No human had the energy to trek across the country...or cross water without some sort of transportation.

"New York." she said uneasily, tilting her head slightly as she examined my battered face. I took a deep breath.

"What day is it?"

"The twelfth of April." It had been the same date when I woke up from my sleeping pill scare. Assuming it was very early morning here, I had only been awake for an hour or two. Had I really managed to get here in such a short amount of time? I swallowed and nodded my head slowly in response to the woman.

"...Thank you." I couldn't come up with anything else to say to her, and I didn't want to argue about where we were or what day it was, no matter how much I refused to believe it. I could have asked her where the hospital was, but I had no desire to speak to her, or anyone, anymore. I slowly turned to walked back out the door, the bell overhead again making me cringe as I left. Once I was outside I started walking again, hoping to figure things out as I did. I gathered up the facts in my head, trying to make sense of them. Apparently I had made my way to New York in a few hours, barefoot, after being blown up. It just didn't make any sense. I cursed angrily at myself and the situation and stopped walking, confused and upset. How did I get here? My anger was flaring up easier than it had before, the rage pent up inside of me almost frightening. After all of my years of being trapped, I had finally gotten out. But what now? What could I possibly do to figure things out? I was about to scream in frustration when I heard a snap, then a violent fizz. I tilted my head up in time to see the light post above me pop and go out, sending shattered glass showering towards me. I slid out of the way and watched the pole from a distance, trying to find any object laying around that could have possibly broken the glass. My first assumption was that someone had fired a gun at me, though I couldn't clearly see any bullets laying around.

I continued examining the mysterious light when another popped out behind me, followed by two more. I shrieked quietly and started running, covering my ears so I couldn't hear the deafening popping and shattering. Everywhere I went the light posts popped and went out, leaving me in almost complete darkness by the time I reached the end of the street. Once at the edge of the sidewalk I closed my eyes and took a few calming breaths, trying to make sense of the situation in my head. Why was this happening? Was I doing this, somehow? I felt a strange sensation running through my body, like I was being electrocuted, though it didn't hurt at all. It almost felt...warm, and somehow familiar. I took a few more deep breaths and opened my eyes again, focusing in on the area. In my panicked sprint I hadn't realized where I had ended up, though what I saw now halted my breath. The strange electric tingling inside of me grew stronger as I lifted my head to see the few letters plastered across the top of the building standing just in front of me, lit up for the entire city to see.

STARK

Stark Tower. I could barely believe it, even though I was seeing it with my own two eyes. The building itself was much bigger and brighter than I had ever imagined, and I couldn't help but let my mouth hang open like an idiot. This was the tower I had only seen in photographs and newscasts, the home to one of the people that I idolized so much; Tony Stark. I couldn't help but think, in that moment of shock, that my body had brought me to New York for a reason. I had to meet Tony Stark, the famous Iron Man. Although it sounded ridiculous, it was the only thing I had to go on at the moment. I took a deep breath and walked closer to the building, praying that he didn't have some insane security outside that would kill me the moment I stepped onto his property. Luckily for me, I made my way to the door without any problem. I froze at the doorstep, letting out a shaky breath. I couldn't just knock...could I? It was extremely early in the morning by now, and Tony Stark was most likely sleeping like most normal people did at this hour. I didn't want to bother him, but I really didn't have anywhere else to go. I had no money, no shelter, no food, and no friends or family that could help me out. I wasn't going to call my father, no matter how desperate I got. I would never go to him for help again...not after all he had done. In that moment, getting into Stark Tower seemed to be the only option. I could at least hope that Tony Stark would help me out, even if it was just a little bit. A little bit of help was all I really needed.

The more I stood next to the building, the more I could feel a strange energy pulsing off of it, something I had never felt before. It almost seemed...alive, like it was breathing in and out gently with the breeze. But it was more than that, as if it was full of tiny connections just like the human body. Of all the strange things that seemed to be happening, I accepted that this was another one of those things. Not quite knowing what I was doing, as if drawn in by the building, I placed my hands on the outer wall, letting my eyelids fall over my eyes. What I felt radiating from the wall was amazing...like a colorful flow of energy that was warm and bright. My vision, though it should have been dark, exploded with colorful strands of energy and electricity, all dancing across my eyes beautifully. I had never felt anything so wonderful in my life. I could tell that this was Stark's entire system; his entire security; everything that ran his tower...and I could feel it all. After a few moments of awe, I began to feel that familiar feeling coursing through me again, as if the energy I was seeing within Stark Tower was a mirror image of my own internal energy. What did that mean? Did I have energy just like the tower did? It was an incredible thought, though I had no idea how to expand on it. For the moment, my mind was fried.

Suddenly, after what seemed to be a few minutes, something made a loud popping noise like a gunshot, and the bands of colorful light in my vision started to fade and turn gray. In a matter of a few seconds, they were completely gone, and so was the warm feeling. I opened my eyes quickly and looked up to see that the building was no longer lit, like a black hole had swallowed up all of the light. Panic ran through me as I stared at the door. I had just killed Stark Tower. How could I do that? I pulled the door open with ease and walked inside slowly, looking around for any sign of energy. Tony lived off of his arc reactor...what if I had shut that down too? Would he die? What if I killed him? My thoughts ran wild as I walked through the building, desperately trying to find him.

It was extremely dark, and I struggled not to trip over random objects throughout the halls. I was starting to worry if Tony would be mad at me for breaking into his tower and shutting it down, but decided I should stop worrying so I wouldn't cause any other harm to his system. It wasn't like I had meant to do anything in the first place...but I didn't know how I could explain how or why I did it. I didn't exactly know how I had done it either. Explaining something that I couldn't even grasp was impossible, and I knew it. I could only pray that if the man caught me, I could provide a somewhat decent explanation.

I was caught up in my thoughts when I ran into something hard and stumbled backwards, hitting the wall behind me lightly. I blinked and held my hand over my eyes to shield them from the circular light emitting from the object I had run into, painfully bright in contrast to the dark hall. It took a few seconds before I realized what the light was, and my eyes grew wide as my heart thumped in my chest.

"Well, well. What do we have here? The culprit of my power outage, maybe?" the object spoke, my body tensing. Tony Stark. I stayed quiet, too terrified to make any words form in my mouth. Tony sighed. "You're lucky I have a back up generator." He clapped his hands and the lights came on, blinding me momentarily until my eyes adjusted. I straightened out my back and nervously looked up into Stark's face, a wave of feelings flowing over me. He was a lot closer to me then I had expected, his dark eyes staring me down as I took him in. His dark hair was messy, most likely from sleeping, and the arc reactor glowed faintly through his thin tee-shirt. He wasn't really too much taller than me, but his demeanor made me feel as if he was towering over me. I felt like a child. Realizing I was done with my examination of him, he gave me a smirk, which I had seen many times in interviews.. That gesture, sending a chill down my spine, made me realize I was in so much trouble.


	3. Chapter 3

Tony Stark turned and continued on down the long hall ahead of us as I scurried after, silently praying that I wouldn't get severely punished for my actions. Tony had always seemed like a cool person in his interviews, but I couldn't shake that fear that had built up in me that everyone had a dark side. There was no way to tell someone's personality by how they acted for the media; my father was a prime example. Tony could very well turn around and smack me hard in the face right now, as I deserved. I watched his thin figure nervously as he made his way down the corridor, his back to me. Our feet padded softly against the floor, though it sounded much louder in the silence. I held my breath to keep from breathing too loudly, my heart pounding painfully in my chest. For once, I really did just want to be home.

Soon the hallway opened, spilling into a large room that looked like it could almost be a living room, but fancier. Full of elegant and expensive things, I found myself suddenly tempted to touch everything in the room. I restrained myself, though, just so Tony didn't think I was some deprived homeless person off of the street. Not that there was anything wrong with homeless people, but I wasn't sure what Tony's thoughts were about them. I didn't want to give a bad first impression, although I was sure that ship had already sailed. I passed by a fancy looking lamp and reached out my hand to lightly brush the shade, then quickly pulled my fingers away before Tony could see. I wasn't deprived at all back home, and most of the things I had were probably just as expensive as these things were, but something about his furniture seemed so much more fascinating than my own. I had never been in such an interesting looking building before, interior or exterior. I would cherish being inside the tower while I could. Besides, I had a special appreciation for other people's things, since I had been stuck with only my own things my entire life.

A sigh escaped my lips, coming out much louder than I intended, breaking the stiff silence in the room. I glanced up at Tony, who I hadn't noticed had stopped in the middle of the room to stare at me. Honestly, I hadn't even realized I had quit walking. My mind was way too busy for me to notice anything, which I took as a bad sign. I swallowed and straightened out my back, squaring my shoulders and taking a calming breath. I could at least try to look like I knew what was going on and that I was confident, even when on the inside I wanted to curl into a ball like a small child. Tony was one of my idols, after all. I would do all I could to somehow make up for all of the mistakes I had already made. I figured the best way to do this was to use my 'winning personality'. At least, that's what my father had always called it. '_A winning personality makes you seem all the more attractive and approachable. Use it at all times_.' That's what he told me at every one of his little gatherings, as if I had forgotten. Those parties were always the same, as well as the people who came to them. Although, I had a feeling this encounter would be different than all of the people I won over at my father's parties and gatherings. Tony would see right through me; I was sure of it.

Tony held his hands behind his back casually and walked around me, looking me over.

"Lets see," he started, his eyes on me making me uncomfortable. Still, I didn't move a muscle to indicate my unease. "Average sized, young, dark brunette, pretty, European features, green eyes, curvy yet skinny shape, nice skin, and..." He stopped walking and picked up a piece of my hair, taking a deep breath in to smell it. "...smells like ocean water. So tell me, how exactly did you manage to power down my tower?" He dropped my hair, where it fell to my shoulders, and walked around me again until he was standing in front of me, crossing his arms over his arc reactor. My body tensed and I avoided eye contact with him, letting my eyes drift around the room instead.

"I don't know," I answered quietly. He sighed in annoyance.

"You don't know how you hacked into my entire system? Hard to believe that. Who do you work for?" The abruptness in his voice caused an odd shock to move through my spine, fear settling over me. He really was angry, not that I expected any different, but it hurt to accept that I had angered him.

"No one," I whispered, then raised my voice for him to hear me better. "I don't work for anyone." I lifted my eyes to his now, keeping in mind that 'winning personality'. Eye contact was good.

"So, you wanted to break into my tower for your own amusement?"

"I didn't mean to break into your tower."

"Once again, that's hard to believe."

"Mr. Stark I promise I didn't mean to cause you or your tower any harm." I said confidently. His eyebrows knit together in frustration, and his dark eyes bore into mine as we stood for a few moments of silence. I returned the stare, ignoring my heart throbbing in my chest.

"Then why are you here?" he said finally, a bit quieter.

"...I'm not sure." I mumbled, my confidence dwindling. It was hard to appear tough when I didn't have any valid information to back myself up. Tony sighed yet again and shook his head, rolling his eyes. He turned around and began pacing the room, his steps heavy on the floor underneath us.

"Jarvis. Show me the video footage of the front door before the systems were shut down." he announced, removing his hands from behind his back to pop his knuckles.

"Yes, Mr. Stark. Right away." The voice came from within the ceiling, male and with a strong British accent. I jumped in surprise and I looked up to the ceiling, as if expecting to find some man dangling from the roof, but instead I found nothing. I tilted my head back down and looked at Tony, my eyes wide with curiosity. The corner of his mouth raised in a smirk.

"That's Jarvis." he responded, as if this was enough explanation for me to figure out who Jarvis was.

"What is he?" I asked, pressing further.

"Just A Rather Very Intelligent System." He emphasized the first letter of every word, which explained the origin of the nickname 'Jarvis'. I nodded my head slowly, trying to understand.

"Clever."

"Of course. I'm a genius." He shot me a smile, which I effortlessly returned.

"Right. I know." I fell silent again and looked down at my hands, my fake smile fading. No matter how hard I tried to distract myself, the events of the past day continued to come back to me, destroying my ability to even pretend I was content with the situation. Tony cleared his throat awkwardly and began pacing, and I was sure he had no clue how to talk to me. I didn't know how to talk to him either. Besides, right now I was a criminal to him, and I was probably very hard to read. Here I was, polite and seemingly confident, yet I had just managed to kill his system and infiltrate his tower. What was he supposed to say to me? 'So, I know you broke into my house and all, but you seem nice. What's your favorite color?' or, 'So, how about the weather yesterday?'. No matter what either of us said right now, it was only going to make things more awkward than they already were...which was saying something. Tony stopped his pacing and sat down on one of the nice couches, draping his arm over the arm rest and looking at me, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

"So," he started slowly, tapping his fingers along the edge of the couch, "What is your name?"

"Annabelle Sawyer Green."

"Age?"

"Twenty three."

"Original gender?"

"Uh, female.."

"Just making sure."

"Right..." Just as I had suspected, he had made things more awkward. Original gender? What the hell was that about? I awkwardly swayed back and forth, tapping my foot lightly on the ground as we fell into silence again for a couple more minutes. The silence was growing more agonizing by the second, and I could only pray that he would let me leave soon. Here I was with one of my heroes who I had always wanted to meet, and yet I couldn't find anything to say to him.

"Jarvis sure is taking a while..." he mumbled, dropping his head back against the couch. I nodded in agreement. "So, Green...I feel like I've heard that before. Is anyone related to you famous or anything?"

"My father is a scientist." I said bitterly, the hatred for my father still very present in the front of my mind. Tony didn't seem to pick up on it, though, continuing to press me for information.

"Where does he work?"

"He has his own lab in Japan. Off of Tokyo. He owns the company TG Medicines."

"Right. Harry Green, correct? I remember now." He reached over the arm rest and grabbed a glass of liquid that I hadn't noticed was there before, bringing it to his lips and taking a long drink. "That explains your quirky little accent." I looked up up at him in surprise, my attention wavering between the glass and his face.

"You knew my father?" I asked, ignoring his remark about my accent. I didn't know if he meant quirky in a positive or negative way, and honestly, I didn't want to know. Sure, my accent was a weird mixture of Russian, Japanese, and German, dominantly German, but that didn't make it bad. Right? I hoped not.

"Yep. Met him a few times. Wasn't too fond of the guy, no offense, but I don't think he liked me either. We had...conflicting opinions." He brought the glass away from his face and set it down on the table again, the liquid sloshing around for a few seconds before it settled. I uneasily focused my attention on his drink to avoid making eye contact with him.

"Right. He didn't like you at all," I responded. I examined the glass for a few seconds longer and then looked down at my feet and bit my lip, thinking through all of the journal pages I had read in my frenzy earlier. There were several hateful entries about Tony in particular, as well as the other scientists around the world, and a fair handful of superheroes. My father didn't like any of the people I adored.

"That's what I thought. I heard that his lab and home recently had an accident. Is that true?"

"Hm?" I blinked and lifted my eyes to him to see he was watching me carefully, making me feel self conscious.

"An explosion? It was on the news." He laced his fingers together and watched my face curiously. I swallowed hard and bobbed my head up and down a few times.

"Yes. There was." I said stiffly. Tony opened his mouth to ask something else when the wide T.V. in the room flashed on, silencing him before he could continue.

"Sorry for the wait, Mr. Stark. Here is your video footage." Jarvis's voice boomed around us, echoing in the large room. I let out a silent sigh of relief and turned my attention to the TV. I was interested to know what the surveillance camera had captured during the time I had 'hacked' into the building's system. The energy pulsing through me then, and now, was still extremely strange to me, and I had no idea how I was going to explain it to Tony if he asked. I didn't understand it myself; there was no way I could tell him about the 'strands' of energy flowing through his tower without him thinking I was a complete lunatic.

The image of me standing outside of the tower faded in on the screen, and I twiddled my thumbs nervously as I watched. My hand in the video was pressed lightly against the frame of the tower, my eyes shut tight, a peaceful look on my face. I didn't look suspicious; more like someone who was just trying to focus on thinking. In a way, that had been exactly what I was doing. The video footage continued like this for a few more moments, until suddenly the peace was broken. For a brief moment my body on the screen seemed to flash and light up, the last thing that was caught on the tape before the screen flickered out and went black. That had been when the tower had lost it's power, I realized. I quickly looked To Tony, so I could attempt to explain what we were seeing, but he was concentrated on the screen. I swallowed my makeshift explanations and left him to his thoughts. Maybe he could figure out what I couldn't. Maybe he could help me find out exactly what was going on with my body.

"Jarvis...play that last bit again," he said seriously, "and pause when that light is first captured."

"Yes sir." The video rewound itself and paused on the scene Tony asked for, the footage even more fascinating now that it was still and I was able to see clearly. The bright, seemingly otherworldly light engulfed my entire body, as well as a few feet around me. The entire front of Stark tower was bathed in the odd light, which I was clearly the source of. How, I didn't know. Tony narrowed his eyes and stared intently at the screen, stroking his chin lightly as he examined, deep in thought. I watched him, tensed and afraid for what he was going to say to me. I was scared at what I was seeing, too. No doubt he was puzzled, which wasn't a good sign. Scientists didn't like things they couldn't explain.

"Is that some sort of electrical device? One that unleashes an extreme amount of energy, enough to kill my system?" he asked slowly, still looking at the screen, though it was obvious the question was directed towards me. I opened my mouth to defend myself, and insist that I hadn't purposefully done it, but Jarvis interrupted me.

"No, sir. I'm afraid there is no such device. A device with that amount of energy would have to be at least the size of an average human being, if not larger." As he finished I shut my mouth again, at a loss for words. Had I really been able to release that much energy? I didn't even know how I was capable of doing something like that, and I honestly didn't believe it. I _couldn't_ believe it. It wasn't humanly possible. There had to be some other explanation.

"I see." Tony finally looked away from the screen and focused his eyes on me. I blinked and stared back, wishing I could know exactly what he was thinking. It would have been nice to get some sort of mind reading powers, instead of whatever the heck I was dealing with now. I guess even superheroes didn't get what they wanted. Then again, I wasn't a superhero. "Well, I guess there is no other choice." he finished. With that he stood up swiftly and grabbed a briefcase off of the side table, clicking a button near the handle, which flashed a few times and made several clicking sounds. I backed away slowly, suddenly fearful of whatever he had hiding in that suitcase. I had a feeling it wasn't good.

"What are you-" I started, but before I could finish my sentence the Iron Man suit formed over him and clicked into place, the metal mask covering his face. He held his hand up and immediately fired an energy beam at me, the bright light blinding me for a moment. I screamed and ducked, covering my head with my hands just in time. The beam hit the wall behind me, a few pieces of rubble exploding and falling around me. As soon as I shook off the initial fear of the situation, I quickly popped back up and stood in a defensive stance. I opened my mouth to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing, but before I could he flew forward and smashed me against the wall, my back cracking painfully. My head spun and black spots danced across my vision as he pressed me against the wall, pain jolting through my body. His metal covered arm was firm against my neck, and still warm from charging the energy beam he had fired. Was he trying to kill me? I began to panic, and I could feel the spark of electricity flowing through my blood once again as it had before. This time, though, the energy seemed stronger and more defensive, reminding me almost of an adrenaline rush. Before I could think to stop myself, I released a significant amount of energy through my fingertips, the power popping and fizzing up my arm until it entered Tony's suit. I could feel the hair on my arms start to raise with the static, and I clenched my teeth to keep from passing out from the sudden overwhelming exhaustion that had come over me. I strayed my attention from myself and focused in on Tony's suit energy, just as I had with the tower. I could feel all of the energy draining from the suit as it began to die down, quickly, and within moments the suit stopped glowing and fell to the ground with a thud. The metal clanked together noisily as it settled and then fell still, with no sound from Tony on the inside.

"Mr. Stark!" I squealed, dropping to my knees next to the suit. My back still ached immensely from the wall, but I pushed through the pain and shook his shoulders harshly, gripping at the metal. I got no reply for a few seconds, that panic still running through me, then finally the suit started to retract back into it's briefcase form. Tony, now back to the way he had been before, panted and sat up slowly, his eyes at the same level as mine. "Are you okay?" I asked frantically, hoping I hadn't hurt him or damaged his arc reactor in any way. Killing or hurting him was something I most certainly couldn't live with. He stared at me for a while, his eyes sparkling with curiosity, and then flashed me his white teeth.

"That's some power you've got there kid." he sputtered. Confused, I sat down across from him on the floor and tilted my head, a few strands of hair falling over my face.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." I said, feeling like an idiot. The rush of the energy was gone now, and that exhaustion was even stronger. I was having trouble even keeping up with English right now. For once, I wanted the comfort of speaking to my father in German.

"Did you see what you just did? You killed my suit."

"I'm sorry..." I said quietly, not able to come up with any more words than that to say. Was he expecting that apology? I could have killed him, after all. But I had a feeling he was going after something different.

"No no it's fine. It's amazing, actually. You don't have any weapon on you, yet you did that." Tony stood up and offered me his hand, which I took carefully and let him pull me up to my feet. A wave of nausea rolled over me, but I ignored it the best I could and focused on Tony.

"There has to be some kind of explanation for it, no human like me can do something like that." My voice shook as I spoke, tears of confusion and sudden pain brimming in my eyes. Tony shot me a look that seemed to be something semi-sympathetic before answering me.

"I was watching the news a few hours ago. That's when I heard about your father's lab accident. And I heard something else that I found interesting. It went something like this." He cleared his throat and tried his best to sound like a female reporter, which honestly didn't work. "Along with the destruction of his property and much of his lab research, Dr. Harry Green also lost his daughter in the explosion. Judging by the type of explosives, and the fact that she was in the same room as the explosives, it is certain she died on impact. No body has been found." He finished and grinned at me once again, that uneasy chill running through my spine. I repeated the words in my head a few times, thinking them over. If the news presented me as dead, that meant the general population thought I was dead. And my father was part of that population. I took a sharp breath in and slowly lowered myself down onto the couch, my head spinning. I wasn't dead, even though I very well should have been. I had no where to run to now. I was non-existent.


	4. Chapter 4

I felt very out of place sitting in Tony Stark's kitchen in the early morning, the dark sky making the dim lit kitchen seem smaller than it actually was. Really, this place was huge. I twiddled my thumbs nervously and focused my attention on the window, knowing the sun wouldn't come out for at least a few hours. Tony had been running around the building making phone calls, after I had explained to him everything that had happened to me, though I had left out the parts about my father's abusive behavior. He had told me to sit at the kitchen table and wait for a while, even after I protested about staying. 'Help yourself to any of my food. I have a wide variety.' he had told me. Not wanting to cause him any more trouble, I settled for a bag of potato chips. Even the delicious salty snack didn't seem appealing to me, not to mention that I wasn't even very hungry. The chip bag now laid untouched on the table. I didn't feel like eating after everything that had happened to me today, and I instead sat in silence for what seemed like about a half an hour or more. Even though I was used to being by myself, there was something about being in someone else's home that made me uneasy, even without considering the fact that the owner of this home was a superhero. One of _my _superheroes. I inhaled deeply, closing my eyes for the remainder of my time sitting there.

Finally, Tony came back into the kitchen and sat in the chair across from me, lacing his hands together as I forced my eyes open to look at him. He looked at me curiously, as if he was watching for something that would surprise him. He made me feel extremely uncomfortable with his gaze, so I spoke.

"Is there something you need?" I started, slowly. Tony seemed to snap out of a trance, his eyes foggy. He blinked a few times and met my eyes.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

"No."

"You know, I think you should go take a shower." he continued. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to grin and say he was joking. He didn't.

"Do I...smell really bad?" I took a piece of my hair and sniffed it, the scent of ocean water overwhelming me. It wasn't necessarily a bad smell, but it wasn't one I wanted to get used to. Tony shrugged his shoulders and casually leaned back in his chair.

"Not really. I just thought you might like to. Girls like showers, you know? They like to feel clean."

"...right, of course. Thanks for reminding me." I said sarcastically. He made a face and continued talking.

"It's up the stairs and to the right. Can't miss it. But if you do, just ask Jarvis for help. He's smart." I nodded and slowly stood up, giving him a sidelong glance and deciding not to comment on the fact that he had just called a machine 'smart'. I had a feeling he was just indirectly complimenting his own genius.

"Thanks, I guess. I'll be back." I mumbled as I started towards the stairs, grabbing a hold of the railing to steady myself. I still wasn't feeling one-hundred-percent after the explosion, and my body was starting to complain more and more with every move I made. Of course, I wasn't going to tell Tony this.

"Take your time!" he yelled to me. I rolled my eyes at his abruptness and made my way up the stairs, looking around for the bathroom as soon as I reached the top. He had said it was on the right, but there were four doors on the right. I sighed and opened the first one, peeking my head inside and looking around. Lucky for me, it was the bathroom. It was huge and extremely nice, just like the rest of the house, the floor and counter made of a creamy color that I thought to be marble. The cool stone felt nice against my sore feet, and I stood still for a moment before turning and facing the mirror. I almost jumped at my reflection. Staring back at me were my big green eyes, though they looked sadder than usual and very bloodshot. My face was marked with dark burn lines, though it didn't appear my skin was actually damaged. Thank goodness. My wavy hair stuck up in different places, singed by the fire in a few spots. I was a mess. I took a deep breath and turned away from the mirror, not able to stand looking at myself any longer. I stripped off my clothes, letting them fall into an unorganized heap on the tile. They were toasted already from the flames of the explosion, and I didn't see any reason to fold them or even pick them up off of the floor. I brushed them to the side with my foot and stepped into the gigantic shower, pulling the glass door firmly shut behind me. I ran a hand through my tangled hair and focused my attention on a panel built into the side of the shower, staring at the various knobs and buttons. I realized I had no idea how to even start it. I bit my lip and nervously reached forward, turning the biggest knob, which did nothing. Frustrated, I began turning more knobs, hoping for some kind of reaction. I got none.

"Oh come on..." I mumbled. I pressed a few more buttons in anger, wishing Tony had at least told me how to run his shower, my eyes burning a little as I seethed. For the second time tonight, anger was getting the best of me. I pressed one more button, which was apparently the 'on' button, because I was suddenly being sprayed with spurts of boiling hot water, scalding my skin. I squealed and leaped up and down as the water scalded my skin, enhancing the pain of the already burned spots, and I began furiously pressing buttons once again. I flipped a little switch on the side of the panel that looked promising, yet the little shoots of water kept coming. I couldn't even tell where they were coming from. All I knew was that they were absolutely everywhere, and nothing I did seemed to make them any less obnoxious. Finally, after about a minute more of pain and scalding, I remembered what Tony had said: 'Ask Jarvis for help'. I smacked my fist against the stone lining the sides of the shower, clenching my teeth as I screamed 'JARVIS!"

"Yes, Ms. Green. How may I be of assistance?" Jarvis's voice boomed through the walls, only slightly drown out by the sound of the water.

"Fix the shower!" I was about to apologize for my forceful words, but I remembered that he was only a robot and kept my mouth shut. Besides, as soon as I opened my mouth I got a painful shot of water right into it. Looked like my body wasn't going to be the only thing burned.

"Right away Ms. Green." Jarvis responded calmly. Almost instantly, the shower stopped spurting water at me, the main shower head sputtering on. The water fell softly against my skin, much cooler than it had been previously.

"Thanks for helping me before..." I mumbled sarcastically, closing my eyes as I let the calm water soothe me.

"I apologize."

"I forgive you."

"Thank you." With that, Jarvis's voice was gone, though I knew now that he was readily available whenever I needed him. That would come in handy.

I finished my shower quickly, making sure to ask Jarvis to turn off the water this time. The steam billowed around me as pushed the glass door open, wrapping a towel around my body as I stepped out onto the tile. I carefully tucked the corners of my towel in to get it to stay, my fingers brushing across one of the many bruises on my body. I ignored the faint pain and made my way over to the mirror, looking myself over again. I immediately found myself looking around my body, checking for any of my bruises that were exposed. It had become a habit for me to do a 'bruise check', where I would make sure that all of my bruises were covered or concealed with make up. It was one of the many routines in my daily life. I didn't see much of a reason to try to cover them now, though, because I knew I would be able to blame the explosion. Nothing like a good explosion to keep my father off the hook.

I shifted my attention to my wrist, which had been throbbing dully for the past couple of days due to a break in the bone. It had gradually gotten better in the past few hours, though, which I was grateful for. My adrenaline must have gone to work. I gently bent my wrist back and forth, making sure it was healing straight, which it seemed to be. I had broken it a couple weeks ago, though the pain was just now starting to subside. I dropped my wrist gently and let my hand fall by my side as I moved away from the mirror, suddenly wondering what I was going to wear. The clothes I came in were no where to be found, and I had nothing else with me. There was no way I was going to go downstairs in only a towel. I knew enough about Tony Stark's past to know that was not a good idea.

"Jarvis? May I have some clothes?" I asked slowly, the fact that Jarvis was everywhere still freaking me out a little. It was weird to know that something was always watching. Creepy, actually.

"Yes. I was just arranging them for you. Mr. Stark does not own many articles of women's apparel, so you will have to make do with this until tomorrow." Jarvis answered. A mechanical arm lowered itself from one of the ceiling panels and dropped a pair of folded clothes on the counter, brushing them off before retracting back into the roof. "Please excuse my intrusion, Ms. Green."

"...That's okay..." I muttered, walking over to look at the clothes to examine them. I appreciated the fact that Jarvis was a gentleman. Or...gentlebot. Whatever.

I picked up the first article of clothing, a simple low cut black tank top, and set it to the side before looking down at the other things. I unfolded the next article, finding that they were a pair of dark shorts that seemed extremely too short for my comfort. I sighed heavily and glanced at the bra and underwear that had been laying under the clothes, my eyes widening. They were a matching silky black, little frills of material lining the edges. I lowered my hand and slowly lifted the bra off of the counter, holding it away from me as if it was something dead. "...I don't even want to know why Tony has these..."

"Well you see, Tony always keeps at least one outfit in case of situations like these." Jarvis answered, still startling me even though I had somewhat expected him to answer.

"Situations like...random girls breaking into his tower? Great. He did a fantastic job of picking out stuff..." I muttered sarcastically, dropping the bra back onto the counter in disgust. There really wasn't any other choice besides wearing them, though, so I groaned and slipped into the clothes, trying not to feel too violated. I wasn't used to clothes like this, sure, but a lot of girls dressed this way on a daily basis. I could last for one night.

I found a hairbrush under the counter, running it through my dark hair a few times in attempts to fix it before setting the brush aside again. There were parts of my hair that I definitely couldn't fix with just a brush, and I decided I was going to have to chop some of it off. I wearily picked up the hairdryer, biting my lip as I debated on if I should use it or not. After a few moments I set it back down, not wanting to take the risk of using it. If my 'powers' had been able to knock out Tony's whole system, I didn't want to find out what they would do to a simple hairdryer. Besides, Tony was the only one who was going to see me, and I didn't think he would mind if I left my hair wet. He didn't seem to care much about the appearances of females, unless, of course, they looked dirty. Which, I supposed I had appeared when we first met. No wonder he was standoffish. I checked myself once more in the mirror, deciding I looked presentable, then opened the door and walked back out into the hall, tugging the ridiculous shorts down as much as I could to make myself feel more comfortable. I made my way down the flight of stairs I had walked up earlier, running a hand through my damp hair as I turned the corner to enter the room I had last seen Tony in.

"Mr. Stark, I really have no idea how to run your shower. It's one of the most complicated things I have ever-" I stopped talking and froze where I was standing as soon as I entered the room, my mouth gaping open as I took in everything that I was seeing. The large room that had been empty not twenty minutes before was now scattered with a few people who I was all too familiar with. The Avengers. Or, so I guessed. They seemed to fit the part. The two new men in the room stopped their conversation with Tony and turned towards me, confusion crossing their faces. I made a conscious effort to close my mouth as stood stiffly, wishing even more now that Tony would have had the decency to buy clothes that were a little less revealing.

"...So...what have we here, Tony?" The first man spoke up, running a hand through his curly brown hair. I recognized him instantly as Dr. Banner, otherwise known as The Hulk. He was wearing a purple button up shirt, his sleeves rolled halfway up his arms. Tony shrugged his shoulders and shot a playful grin at Dr. Banner.

"What does it look like I have?" Tony replied casually.

"Uh...a girl?" Dr. Banner raised an eyebrow, still inspecting me. Tony chuckled under his breath and nodded his head.

"That I do."

"You'd better not be cheating on Pepper, Tony." The second man spoke now, shooting Tony a harsh glare. I wanted to ask who he was, but then I noticed what he was wearing. Both his hair and his clothing was very old fashioned, matching the style that had been popular in the forties. I grasped the edge of the couch firmly, my head spinning. He was Captain America.

"I'm not cheating on Pepper." Tony scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Oh and by the way, Thor will be here soon. He has some portal issues." he added, before Captain America could have the chance to comment any more on the subject of Pepper. My eyes darted around the room as I held the couch, my thoughts racing. All of the Avengers were going to be in the same room I was in, something I had fantasized about for years, and now it was finally happening...and I looked like hell. I glanced at Tony frantically as the room fell silent, not sure what he wanted me to say to these men. Was I supposed to talk to them? Or did he want me to leave, so they could talk amongst themselves? I took a shaky breath in and squeezed the back of the couch. Dr. Banner shook his head lightly and stepped towards me, holding out his hand.

"I'm Bruce Banner. Although you may only know me as the angry green guy." He smiled politely and shook my hand, his hand surprisingly gentle. I nodded and cleared my dry throat.

"Of course. I know who you are..." I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking with excitement. I still couldn't believe everything that had happened to me in the past few hours, though it seemed my day was looking up for the time being. Dr. Banner - or, Bruce - let go of my hand and stepped back, nudging at Captain America gently. Captain America cleared his throat and made his way towards me, my heart pounding in my chest as he got closer. He flashed me a gorgeous smile, stopping about a foot and a half in front of me.

"Ma'am." he said politely, holding out his hand. I stared at him in wonder, not sure if I could hold my excitement in much longer without bursting like a balloon. Captain America was going to shake my hand. He was so adorable without his mask on, and I almost couldn't move my hand to shake his, too nervous and excited and embarrassed all at the same time. It was an influx of intense emotions, and it was making my eyes burn again. I noticed Bruce watching me out of the corner of my eye, his face curious and a little amused. Slowly I raised my hand and took Captain America's, the blood running to my face and making my cheeks warm. "I'm Steve Rogers." he started, quietly, "And judging by the look on your face, I assume you know who I am." he squeezed my hand lightly, smiling a little. I nodded furiously, pulling my hand back to my side as soon as he released it.

"Y-Yes I do.." I stuttered. Tony cleared his throat loudly from the other side of the room, interrupting the moment and catching my attention. I turned and looked at him, Steve doing the same.

"Are you going to introduce yourself to the guys? Or do I have to do it for you?" Tony yelled across the room at me, even though I could have clearly heard him if he had spoken normally.

"Oh! I forgot." I cleared my throat, embarrassed, straightening out my back and shoulders to look more formal. I took a deep breath and turned back to the two men, giving them a polite and bright smile. "I'm Annabelle Green." I made a point to hide my 'quirky' accent as much as possible as I announced myself, ignoring the somewhat confused look that Tony gave me. I could only hope he would understand that I was hiding it for a reason; I didn't want to become even more different to these people than I already was. "Annabelle Sawyer Green." I repeated. As soon as I finished speaking Bruce's eyes widened in curiosity, and Steve – as weird as it felt to call him that – looked mildly confused. Both men seemed to be taken aback by my introduction, examining me for a few seconds before they turned to look at Tony, who was grinning ear to ear. They seemed to plunge into a silent conversation as I just stood there, once again not entirely sure what to do with the situation.

Finally, after a few moments of awkward silence, Steve turned back around to face me, butterflies fluttering through my stomach.

"You're the girl who died." he said. I nodded, though I was too nervous to really process what he had said. "But...you survived." I blinked and focused more on the conversation, taking a deep breath.

"Not sure how or why, but I guess I did." I responded quietly, shrugging my shoulders weakly.

"There's always a reason." Steve replied.

"I guess." I said, lowering my voice even more. Talking about my 'almost death' made me feel sick, my heart pounding in my ears. I saw Tony check his watch curiously, narrowing his eyes for a few seconds and then sighing loudly, dramatically.

"I wonder when Thor is going to be here. He's missing out on all the fun.." Tony mumbled.

"We're having fun?" I asked, only half aware at what I had said. After a few seconds I flushed and looked down, though I heard a few chuckles from across the room. I smiled a little to myself and looked down at my outfit uneasily, still paranoid about how I looked. "Do you have any other clothes I could wear? Maybe some longer pants?" I asked slowly, lifting my head, hoping he wasn't offended by my dislike of his clothing. Tony shook his head, clearly not bothered by my asking.

"Unfortunately I don't. You can go shopping tomorrow, though. I think Pepper might have left a robe here. You can go look for it if you want. It'll be either in my room or the bathroom." I nodded and started up the stairs as soon as he finished talking, eager to get out what I was wearing. Besides, I didn't think I could handle being around three of the Avengers at the same time. I was going to explode.

Climbing the stairs again made me realize how tired I was becoming, my eyes heavy, but I didn't want to fall asleep when all of my 'heroes' were here. There was so much to ask them. And, by the sound of it, they had a lot to ask me, too. I had to find something to keep me awake. Maybe coffee...or chocolate. Or maybe I could do some intense exercises, though that didn't sound appealing at all at the moment. There had to be something to keep me up.

I got my 'something' at when I reached the top of the stairs and immediately ran into something hard, stumbling backwards and tripping over my sore feet. I let out a small scream in shock and flailed my arms as I tipped backwards, down the stairs, but someone grabbed my shoulders and pulled me back up before I had the chance to roll. I blinked a few times to focus my eyes, finding myself staring straight into the godly face of Thor. Yes, Thor. I recognized the face immediately, chiseled and perfect, his blonde hair falling slightly past his shoulders, his crystal blue eyes gleaming. I swallowed hard and simply stared at him as he held my shoulders firmly, a look of shock crossing his face as well.

"I am so sorry. You nearly fell down the stairs." he spoke, his voice like melted chocolate, even though it was lined with guilt. I shook my head quickly, taking in his features yet again. A strand of his golden hair fell across his concerned face, his eyes hovering over me.

"No no, it's okay. I wasn't looking where I was going." I sputtered, my words tripping over each other like clumsy feet. Thor released his hold on my shoulder, making sure I was balanced before taking a step back and standing up straight. He looked so regal, it was hard not to bow down and kiss his feet.

"Who are you? I don't believe we've met." he spoke up, squinting his eyes to get a better look at me.

"I'm Annabelle Green." I answered quickly, flashing him one of my fake, flawless smiles. He gave me a grand smile in return, his teeth unimaginably white.

"So you're the reason we are all here. Stark called us all because he said he wanted us to meet someone important." I flushed as he paused for a second, raising an eyebrow. "Are you...sparking?" he asked a moment later. I quickly looked down at my hands, which were indeed sparking with a strange electric blue color, like little shocks of electricity running over my skin. I raised my hands and turned them back and forth, observing the little shocks as they occurred. How was I sparking? And why? Thor took my hands in his, my face heating up even more as he ran his thumbs over my skin, enthralled. "This is interesting. Let us go downstairs and see the others." He lifted his eyes from my hands and met mine, giving me another smile.

"Oh I was just looking for somethi-" Thor grabbed me and swung me up over his shoulder before I could finish my sentence, running me down the stairs at a terrifying speed. I squeaked in surprise and held on for dear life as he bounded down multiple steps at a time, my hair whipping up around my face. As we reached the bottom he set me down, grabbing me by the shoulders and spinning me around to face the others, my body swaying.

"What is she?" he demanded, squeezing my shoulders slightly. I was still flustered from being picked up, and, well, from everything else in this day, so I could do nothing but stand there quietly. Tony crossed his arms and grinned widely, leaning against the back of the couch.

"I don't know. You tell me."


	5. Chapter 5

Everyone in the room watched me curiously, my face flushing deeply for what seemed to be the millionth time tonight. I was going to have to learn to keep the blushing to a minimum if I didn't want to look like a tomato my whole time here. I took a deep breath and tried not to move as Thor picked up a piece of my still damp hair, studying it as if it were something he had never seen before. After a moment he dropped my hair, moving behind me and putting a hand to my bare neck, his fingers reaching through my hair. A chill ran down my spine and I stiffened, trying to keep still. Clearly sensing my nerves, Bruce finally spoke up.

"Annabelle, are you uncomfortable? Is there anything we can do? I'm sorry this is probably extremely awkward for you, but we have to make sure you aren't a threat." he said calmly. "Not that we think you are a threat, of course. Just making sure." He smiled at me and I gave a weak one in response, my teeth clenched.

"I-I'm fine..." I said, barely louder than a whisper. Bruce and Tony exchanged a look before Tony cleared his throat, smacking Thor on the arm. Thor pulled his hand back from my neck and looked up at Tony, who gave him a stern look. Thor moved from behind me to stand in front of me, still studying me from afar.

"Do you want to sit down? You can sit on the couch if you want." Tony offered, that amused expression coming over his face again. I could tell he was getting enjoyment out of my unease. I looked down at my shaking legs, taking a deep breath in, and then nodded, deciding sitting was probably a very good idea. I made my way across the room and sat down on one of the fancy couches, feeling instantly more comfortable and a little bit more at ease. I wasn't sure what the couch was made of, but it was magical. The others followed and sat near me, still observing me like I was some science experiment. Once again, Bruce was the one to start the conversation.

"So Annabelle, how old are you?"

"Twenty three."

"And how tall?"

"Um...around five foot six, I think."

"Okay...and when did you start noticing that you could do abnormal things?"

"Earlier today." I paused and thought about it, then continued. "After the explosion."

"Tell them how you managed to get to New York. And what caused the explosion." Tony chimed in. I swallowed and nodded, clearing my throat. I knew I shouldn't have told him all the details of what happened. I really didn't want to tell the other three men what happened. But, I had no choice now.

"Well, you see, my father, Dr. Harry Green, gets jealous really easy...and he gets kind of extreme with his jealousy...and he was jealous of all of you. And not just all of you, but everyone who ever did anything to outdo him. And when he was jealous, he was mad. I don't know what exactly he was planning, or if he was planning anything at all, but I couldn't trust him. He had done a fair amount of things to hurt me personally, as well, and I just...couldn't take it anymore. So I blew up his lab with some weird bomb he had been working on. I don't even know how I got it to work...I just kind of...detonated it. And then I exploded. But there must have been some freaky drugs or chemicals in that lab, because my body walked itself across the ocean from Japan to New York. And then I woke up, I hacked Stark Tower, and now I'm here." I started talking a little faster towards the end, hoping none of them thought I was a horrible liar. When I finished, though, they stayed silent. It took a few moments before anyone said anything, and that person, of course, was Bruce.

"How exactly did you walk across the ocean?" he asked. I shrugged.

"I'm not entirely sure. I was out the whole time."

"Well yeah. You kind of exploded." Tony added. Bruce ignored him.

"Can you explain how you hacked Tony's tower?"

"I don't quite know. But I could feel the energy moving through the building, like a sort of stream, and I got excited...and..." I put my head in my hands, more confused than ever as I tried to explain myself. All of my thoughts were so jumbled in my head, and trying to make sense of everything was making my temple throb. "I don't know how to explain it. I'm sorry..." My words trailed off. I was growing more and more tired by the second, and my aching head wasn't helping me keep my eyes open.

"It's okay. You look a little tired. Do you have anywhere to stay for the night?" Bruce asked. I shook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose and squeezing my eyes shut.

"My father either thinks I'm dead or hates me for what I did. No matter what, there is no way I can go home. I guess if I could somehow get my fathers credit card information I could rent a hotel room and-"

"She's staying here." Tony interrupted me, looking at Bruce. Bruce nodded. I looked at Tony in surprise, though a wave of relief rolled over me. If I had somewhere safe like this to stay, maybe I would have time to sit and figure things out for myself. That was all I wanted at this point.

"Are you serious? You'd let me stay here?" I asked, to which he nodded.

"Of course. I've got plenty of room." He grinned and made a grand gesture around the room, as if making the point that this place was huge. Of course, that point had already been made. Steve groaned.

"If she's staying here then I'm staying here too. There is no way she is staying in this house alone with you." he muttered.

"Why do you say that? I'm not a pervert." Tony narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, though that hint of a sly smile was still hiding behind his stern face.

"Right. What were your words for it? Oh yeah. I believe it was 'Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist'?" Steve rolled his eyes and Tony scoffed, his smirk growing.

"You forgot genius."

"Not the point. If she stays here, I stay here." Steve glared at Tony, though there was a light side to this argument that I could feel. They didn't hate each other, necessarily. They just had different views. And at this point in time, their different views were about me. I sat there and let this set in, my face heating up. Captain America wanted to stay with me; in the same building. He was practically fighting for it. I had to concentrate on not drooling. If I freaked out about the situation, no one would want to stay with me.

"Well, looks like someone has already developed an attachment to our darling Annabelle." Tony sung happily. Steve tensed, his jaw tightening.

"Do you know how immature you are?"

"Yes. That's why I'm fun. And you're not."

"...I don't need to be 'fun'."

"Just easy." Tony grinned to himself.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh nothing. Don't worry grandpa."

"You see what I mean? You're so rude."

"I try." Tony and Steve continued on with their bickering and I sighed, turning around to survey the room. I spotted my cell phone on the coffee table and reached for it slowly, hoping not to catch anyone's attention. Everyone seemed to involved in Steve and Tony's fight, so I didn't think anyone would freak out about me moving. If they still thought I was a threat, they had to be pretty stupid. I held my phone – an old thing that barely worked – and looked at the screen, seeing if I had missed any calls. I hadn't. No one really acknowledged my existence in my family, and I didn't seem to have any friends, since I was forced to be alone most of the time. Father homeschooled me and never let me out with people, so there was no way I could have even attempted to make a friend. The only friends I made were the drunk people who came to my father's parties, and they were hardly the type to call someone like me while they were sober. The closest thing I had to a real friend was my cousin, who was two years older than me. This was the same cousin who had first introduced me to Captain America comics, and for that I was forever grateful. But Portia was a little obnoxious, and I had no desire to call even her right now. She probably thought I was dead as well, anyway. No point in letting her know I was alive. At least, not until I had things figured out. I turned my attention back to the argument, hoping it was almost over.

"At least I'm not a virgin." Tony chimed. What a time to come back into the conversation...

"Your father would be disappointed in you..."

"Don't you dare bring my father into this."

"He was a cool guy. I don't know what happened to you."

"Excuse me? I am-" Tony was cut off by a beeping noise, which turned into a little jingle. I realized it was my phone and stared at it, not sure if I should be embarrassed that it went off or excited that someone was calling me. Everyone turned their attention to me as I sat there, feeling self conscious.

"I'm sorry." I said quietly.

"Who is it?" Bruce leaned over the couch above me and looked at the screen. I looked down as well and held my breath.

"...It's my father..." I said in disbelief. His name flashed across the phone as it rang on, but I was too afraid to answer it. Tony walked around the couch and plopped down next to me, holding out his hand.

"Give it to me. I'll talk to this douchebag." he said roughly. I stared at him and held my phone to my chest defensively.

"No! He can't know I'm here! Or alive!" I yelled frantically.

"Did he just call her dad a douchebag?" Steve whispered to Thor behind me, just loud enough for me to hear. I shot him a look.

"I think so. I believe that's disrespectful...am I correct?" Thor whispered back.

"Yes. It's an insult."

What is a douche exactly? And why is it in a bag?" I looked over my shoulder and gave Thor a look as well, my fear outweighing his comical remark. Bruce had also eavesdropped on the conversation, and struggled not to laugh.

"You don't want to know Thor. Just leave it." Bruce chuckled. Thor looked confused, but after a few moments he nodded. My phone chimed one last time and then stopped, my heart slowing down immediately. I let out a breath of relief and set the phone on my lap. Tony narrowed his eyes and leaped for it, but I was ready. I snatched the phone and threw in on the floor as Tony attacked me, knocking us both onto the hard ground. I blinked and stared up at Tony in shock, his arc reactor warm against my body. At this close range it was easy for me to feel all of the energy running through that thing, but even I knew it was too risky for me to play with it to get him off of me. Thor, Bruce and Steve peered over the edge of the couch at us, a different look on each of their faces. Bruce looked amused. Thor looked perplexed. And Steve looked downright exhausted at the situation. I focused my eyes on Tony again.

"Get. Off. Now." I growled. Tony grinned.

"If you want me off, you'll just have to use your powers to throw me off."

"I don't think that's such a good idea Stark.." Steve said, looking at me warily. Clearly he had thought about the dangers of messing with Tony's arc reactor as well. Tony rolled his eyes.

"Really Captain, I can take care of myself. What could she do? She can't hurt me." My anger was rising more and more with every word he said, that odd, seething anger, and he grinned even wider. "Isn't that right Annabelle? You're just a worthless little-" The electricity raced through me and I shoved him off, sending him at the wall...and through it. It took me a few moments for that sudden seething anger to subside, but when it did I scrambled up and ran after him, running through the hole in the wall. That anger was replaced by fear, and a little bit of guilt. Still, there was some satisfaction in the back of my mind that I couldn't shake.

"Oh my gosh! Mr. Stark! I'm so sorry!" I said as I lifted a few chunks of rubble off of him and helped him up. He coughed and brushed some plaster out of his hair and off of his shoulders, his dark eyes glistening. To my relief, his arc reactor was still glowing strong.

"That. Was. Fantastic." He smiled at me, then patted my cheek. "And call my Tony. I hear enough of 'Mr. Stark' everywhere I go." By now the others had come, most likely to make sure everyone was okay. Steve headed straight for the edge of the hole I had made, running his fingers along the broken wall.

"That's a big hole..." he mumbled. Bruce came up behind me and tapped me lightly on the shoulder, waiting until I turned around to give me a slight smile.

"If you don't mind, can I take your pulse?" he asked calmly. I blinked and nodded slowly, holding out my arm. He grabbed my wrist and pressed his fingers against it, staying silent for a few moments as he counted the beats in his head. Steve, finishing his inspection of the hole, came over to where we were, examining my face for a second, then looking into my eyes. I stared back at him, my cheeks once again heating up.

"...what color eyes do you have?" Steve asked, finally.

"Green." I replied slowly, raising an eyebrow at his odd question. "Why?"

"That's what I thought." he said, completely ignoring my question. "Dr. Banner, don't you find that interesting?" Steve turned to face Bruce, his face curious. Bruce removed his fingers from my wrist and glanced at my eyes before turning to Steve.

"Very. And her heartbeat is pretty interesting too." he replied. I stood there, feeling utterly confused. I wished someone would explain what was so strange about me, instead of talking about me like I wasn't even there.

"What's wrong with my heartbeat? And my eyes?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. Bruce raised his hand and covered my eyes for a moment, the world going dark, and then lifted it, looking at my face. I shifted uncomfortably at how close he suddenly was, but I tried to reassure myself that he was just doing doctor things. I was used to people like my father poking and prodding me. This wasn't so different.

"She's not dilating either. I wonder..." He looked around and then looked back at me. "Come with me, please." He held out his hand and I took it slowly, still confused as to what was going on. Why couldn't they just tell me what the deal was? Bruce lead me away from the group and towards a closed door, no light spilling from underneath. He pulled the door open and walked inside the dark room, which looked to be a bedroom upon closer inspection. I stiffened as he shut the door, leaving us in pitch black of the room. "Close your eyes." he told me, which freaked me out even more. What the hell was he doing? I could hear his footsteps as he walked, closer and closer to me, and then stopped. "Okay. Open." I opened my eyes slowly and looked at his face, which seemed to be illuminated by some kind of blue light. I wasn't even going to comment on how close he had gotten. He grinned, his smile lit up by the odd light. "Well isn't that something..."

"Um...can you please tell me what's going on?" I asked quietly, curious. Bruce looked at me silently for a few more seconds and then nodded.

"I'm just making sure what ever happened to you isn't killing you. It doesn't appear to be, but I'm still not sure. Plus, I'm curious." He smiled a little and held out his hand again. "Let's go back out to the others before Tony makes some crude joke about us being in here." He seemed so calm when he talked, as if nothing bothered him. Somehow it made me feel calmer too. I nodded and followed him out the door, glad to be back in the light. Tony made his way towards us, that dangerous smirk already in place.

"So. Two people go into a dark bedroom and-"

"Her eyes glow blue." Bruce cut him off before he could say anything else. Tony's mouth hung open from his last sentence, and he slowly closed it. Steve and Thor stepped towards us as well, their faces curious. I tilted my head at Bruce. This was news to me. That explained the blue light in the room. Had that been me...?

"My eyes glow? How? Why?" I asked, suddenly curious, but Bruce continued on.

"And her heart rate is far faster than I have ever seen in any human. In normal circumstances, and if she were human, her heart would have stopped by now." Bruce continued as if I hadn't even said anything. I stared at him in awe, not sure what to say. If I were human? I was human! What was he talking about? I started to get light headed, my body swaying a little, but no one seemed to notice.

"Fantastic." Tony smirked at me. I stayed silent, not sure how to react to the situation. Steve narrowed his eyes and walked closer to me, grabbing my wrist and holding it tightly for a few moments. I stared at him wide eyes as he examined my arm, and then let it go, suddenly.

"She's very hot." he commented, completely serious. Tony started laughing, breaking the silence, and Steve groaned, his face flushing ever so slightly. "Oh come on Stark. Be mature."

"Mature? You just called her hot. That's great. I love it." Tony sputtered through his laughter. Steve sighed.

"...I meant her skin is hot...idiot..." He shook his head. I stood there stiffly, butterflies erupting through my stomach. Everyone stared at Tony and waited for him to stop his laughing fit, which didn't seem like it was going to happen any time soon. Finally, after a few minutes that seemed agonizingly long, Thor growled and punched Tony in the arm, sending him sideways onto the floor. He hit the ground and grunted, stopping his laughter immediately. Thor smirked.

"Done." he chimed. Tony got back up and glared at Thor, rubbing his arm.

"Well that was a little harsh, don't you think?"

"No. Not at all." Tony looked like he was going to talk back, but Steve silenced him by pulling my phone out of his pocket and handing it to me. I stared at the phone for a second and then at Steve's face, confused.

"It rang again. I think. It made noise..." he said, waiting for me to take it. I slowly took it from him and looked at the screen, the voicemail icon flashing on and off. To my dismay, it was from my father.

"Excuse me." I mumbled, walking past them and to the corner of the room, as if this was all the solitude I needed for the situation. I dialed voicemail and listened to the message carefully, my heart beat accelerating again.

"Annabelle Sawyer Green. I know you aren't dead. They didn't find any of your remains...did you know that? There would have at least been something. Call me back and come home. Or I will make sure that you don't last much longer out there in the real world. You'll be dead by tomorrow if you don't come home. You know that." The voice on the other line was my father's, but I couldn't believe what he had said. I listened to it a few times over, still just as shocked every time. It sounded like if I didn't come home...he was going to kill me. He hadn't said it directly, but I could tell the meaning behind his words. 'You'll be dead by tomorrow'. That was a threat, if anything. I let my phone drop from my ear and fall to the ground, where it made a dull thud next to my feet. Someone walked over to me and picked it up off the ground, handing it to me, as if I wanted it. I looked over to see it was Steve, and by the look on his face I must have looked awful. I felt awful.

"...are you alright?" he asked quietly. I shook my head.

"My father knows I'm alive. And he's going to kill me unless I go back. Or...something like that.." I muttered, still trying to make sense of what I had heard. Was my father really that cruel? I didn't think he was. Steve stood a little taller, taking my arm firmly.

"We wont let him. I promise."


	6. Chapter 6

"_Papa? Can I go play outside in the rain like the other children?" My memories flooded into me. A young me was standing at the window looking out at the rain, which I had always longed to touch. Sure, I had been in the rain one or two times before, but never for very long. I wanted to stand there and let it rain on me for hours. That's all I wanted. My tiny hand was pressed against the window as I watched the other children play, splashing around in their rain boots and warm coats. I ripped my eyes away from them and turned, clasping my hands behind my back. My father was at his desk as he always was, working on something new._

"_Annabelle, rain is for average children, and you don't have any time for playing. Do you really want to get all wet? Then you'll have to wash your clothes." he grumbled back in German. He didn't once look up at me. He could have at least had the decency to make eye contact when we were having a conversation._

"_I don't mind washing my clothes. I really want to go outside. Just for a little bit? Please?"_

"_Don't beg Annabelle. It makes you sound needy and weak." He stood and left the room, just like that, indicating that our conversation was over. I frowned and continued to watch what I couldn't have. To the other children, I was just the little foreign girl that peered at them through the window day after day. I wanted to cry, but I knew papa would be mad at me so I held it in. 'Crying isn't lady like.' he would say. 'Crying isn't for people like you.'. Who did he think I was? I was a little girl just like the rest of them...but that didn't matter to him. I was his daughter, and as he put it, 'No daughter of mine will grow up to be helpless.' But it seemed like I had done just that. My father didn't allow me to do anything or be with anyone, and our servants always did everything for me. My father used work as a punishment, but I didn't mind it much. I liked working and helping others, even if it meant I had to get dirty or waste time. I had plenty of time to waste, and nothing to do._

_My mother came into the room, her face bright and happy. She was the complete opposite of my father, always so cheerful and free. She wanted to do so many fun things with me, but then she got sick. Now she wasn't able to even leave the house much, except for things she absolutely needed to do. She had her light brown hair tied in a messy ponytail, a few loose strands hanging over her face._

"_Why the long face, Annie?" she asked me, her Russian refreshing to my young mind. Russian was the language I knew best, even when my father spoke German. My mother stopped beside me and crouched down, tickling my sides. I giggled, something that I didn't get to do often._

"_I was just watching the kids play in the rain. Papa says I have to stay inside." I turned to her, grasping one of her hands with my small fingers. "Is the rain cold mama? If you stand out there for a long time, do you get shivers?" I asked curiously. My mother examined my face for a while and then smiled, showing her brilliant teeth._

"_Why don't we find out?" She took my hand and lead me to the door. I pulled my rainboots and jacket on, things I had rarely worn before. I didn't know why my father had even bothered to buy them for me. I tugged on my mother's sleeve, worry in my eyes._

"_Mama, what about papa? Won't he be mad?" My father was mad a lot at my mother, and I hated seeing her get yelled at. Or hit._

"_I'll deal with papa. Don't you worry about it." She bopped her finger on my nose and opened the front door, taking me outside. The cold chill hit me immediately as I ran out into the rain and spun around, giggling with joy. The rain felt so nice and cool on my face, the water running down my skin. It was wonderful. I pranced around in the rain, but stayed close to my mother's side. I didn't want to leave her alone. I never wanted to._

"_Is it nice darling?" she took my hands and spun me around like a ballerina._

"_It's amazing! How is it so cold, mama? And where does it come from?" I spun around again and stared up into the dark sky in awe. My mother laughed._

"_You know where it comes from. Water builds in the clouds and then it comes back to earth."_

"_I know...condensation...but it's so much better than I imagined it to be!" My mother smiled and took my hands in hers, beginning to waltz with me, setting me on her feet and spinning me around. I laughed happily and closed my eyes, feeling more amazing than I ever had in my life._

"_Annabelle?" The voice sounded distant and familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I never wanted to leave this memory. I wanted it to play in my head forever. But all things had to end. After a few minutes of playing and dancing in the rain, my father stormed out, taking me by the wrist. My mother snatched me from him and pushed me behind her defensively, like she always had. My mother may have been small, but she was an extremely strong woman._

"_She's having fun Harry. Let her be." she said harshly, in English, the language they both shared._

"_She's got no time for fun!" my father snapped, grabbing me away from her. I had learned not to fight my father, so I just watched as the look of hopelessness crossed over my mother's face. The grip my father had on my wrist hurt, but I didn't want to get in trouble, so I never said anything. He tugged me inside and away from my mother, and I watched her in dismay over my shoulder. She went into a coughing fit then, probably from the cold. She held her chest and coughed violently, bent over in pain. Sadly, this was a common scene._

"_Mama? Are you okay?" I yelled back to her, still being pulled along. I tried to get away from my father, but his grip was too tight._

"_She's fine Annabelle." he yelled, throwing me inside the door. I hit our hard floors hard, lucky enough to land on my arms instead of my face. I could still hear my mother coughing from outside, and I scrambled up to see if I could run past my father to go see her. I tried to duck under his legs, but he kicked me down. One of our house nurses scurried past me and out the door to tend to my mother, easing some of my worry. She wouldn't let my mother die. She couldn't. My father stood me up and looked down on me, expressing his dominance. "I told you not to go outside."_

"_But-"_

"_But nothing. You disobeyed my orders." He raised his hand and slapped it across my fragile face, sending me back to the ground. I could have gotten up to fight him back, but I was too scared. Always._

"_Sumimasen deshita...papa..." I whimpered, rubbing my cheek. When I was frightened I tended to speak Japanese, because I had spoken it so comfortably with our housekeepers. It was the language that I knew better than my father and mother did, and in times when I felt weak I found myself using it. It was the one thing I had that made me feel like I was something. My father grumbled angrily under his breath and walked back into his office, slamming the door._

"_Annabelle?" The voice rang again through my ears, though I couldn't pinpoint exactly where it was. I slowly stood and walked to the bathroom to check my face, which was already forming a large bruise. I wouldn't be able to leave my room until it healed, because my father feared the housekeepers would tell the authorities. 'They have no right to tell me how to raise my children' he always said. He never wanted to play by the rules of the world, because he claimed the world had wronged him so many times. And maybe it did, but I never thought that was a good reason to be so cruel._

"Annabelle wake up!" I was pulled out of my memory as my shoulders shook, my eyes opening in surprise. I blinked a few times to get out of my daze, finding that the one shaking me was Steve. He sighed a little in relief and released my shoulders, his tensed shoulders relaxing. I sat up slowly and found myself laying on the couch in the living room, the other Avengers scattered around the room.

"See. I told you it would work." Tony said. "Just give someone a good scare and they will wake up. Right, Bruce?" He turned to Bruce, who was sitting in a fancy armchair.

"Don't remind me." he shook his head and rolled his eyes, though there was a slight smirk on his face. Tony grinned and then looked down at me, coming to stand by the edge of the couch.

"You okay there? We thought you weren't going to wake up."

"Yeah, I'm fine..." I grumbled, thinking about my memory. It wasn't long after that when my mother's plane crashed. That was one of the last times I ever saw her. "What happened to me?" I asked.

"You passed out after listening to the voice mail from your father." Steve answered, handing me a tall glass of water. I took it from him and drank a few sips slowly, not wanting to seem rude chug it. I hadn't realized how thirsty I had gotten.

"You're lucky the Captain was next to you when it happened. It's thanks to him that you didn't land on the floor." Tony commented, turning around to survey a small electrical box on the wall. He seemed like he was already bored with the conversation, and had moved on to something else. Apparently he had to keep himself occupied as much as possible. Talking to me wasn't going to keep him busy, I guess.

"Well," I cleared my throat and looked over at Steve, who was still standing near the side of the couch, watching me with concern. "Thank you, Captain Rogers."

"You're welcome. And, you can call me Steve if you want." He stood up from his kneeling spot beside me and stretched his arms out, taking a deep breath. I nodded and coughed into my arm, knowing my face was probably turning red. If I was going to be around him so much, I needed to learn to control my blushing. I lightly touched my cheek, inhaling, the memory of my father still present in my mind.

"Is there a reason you're doing that?" Bruce had stood up and walked over to where I was, examining my face. For someone so quiet, he sure was quick to call someone out on some simple gesture like that. I quickly lowered my hand and shook my head, not wanting to explain. He narrowed his eyes, clearly not giving up. "Annabelle, have you ever broken a bone before?"

"That's kind of a strange question," I started, shifting uncomfortably. "Yes, I have."

"Which bone?"

"Both arms, one leg, a few ribs, my nose, my spine, and my wrist." I listed off, ignoring the few looks that I got.

"Any recently?" Bruce asked, after a few moments of thinking.

"My wrist was the most recent."

"How long ago was that?"

"...maybe a week ago? I'm not really sure." I looked down. "Things are...kind of foggy."

"Can I see it?" He held out his hand. I nodded and offered my right arm out to him, letting him take my wrist in his hands. He made a twisting motion and I winced, a dull pain shooting up my arm. "Sorry. I know it hurts."

"It's alright." I said quickly. It didn't hurt too terribly bad, even though the break had been recent. I was known to heal fast, even when I was younger.

"How did you break your wrist?"

"I..." I fell silent and thought for a moment before talking, wanting to say the perfect thing. Of course, I said something stupid instead. "...I don't remember." I did remember, though. My father had told me to make a cup of coffee for him, since his business was having a rough spurt, and we had to let go of the majority of our servants. My father was more stressed out than he had ever been before, so I did my best to hurry with the coffee. On my way back I had stumbled and tripped, spilling his coffee all over his shirt. It was an older shirt, but it had been expensive. Furious, my father took my wrist and threw me. It was only my bad luck that I hit the window, falling out onto the roof of the deck. I had caught my fall, but had broken my wrist in the process. I was sure I had scars on my back and arms, but my hair must have been covering it. Even with my ability to heal quickly, I couldn't get rid of my scars.

"You don't remember how you broke your wrist?" Bruce didn't seem to believe me. I didn't blame him. It was a stupid thing on my part to say. I shook my head. "...I don't think you're being honest with me. Annabelle, I'm a doctor. I want to help you." he added, softer. I shook my head again.

"I am being honest." I lied. Bruce looked over his shoulder at Tony, who whispered something into Steve's ear. Steve gave him a quizzical look and then nodded, kneeling by me again.

"Annabelle, we all want to help you. Will you please tell me what happened?" Steve asked. I hesitated, biting my lip. Tony knew I wouldn't be able to lie to the person I loved, though how he knew I had feelings for Steve was beyond me. Had he guessed? He was a genius, after all. Maybe he had. That made me uncomfortable.

"I fell." I said, slowly.

"How did you fall?" Steve pressed on.

"I, uh," I struggled over my words, trying to find a convincing lie.

"Would it be better if you two talked alone?" Bruce suggested. I took a panicked look at him and shook my head.

"He'll tell you anyway. What does it matter?" I mumbled. Bruce sighed.

"I suppose you're right."

"Please Annabelle? We just want to help." Steve chimed in again. I sighed.

"I was pushed into my window. The glass broke, and I fell. That's how I broke my wrist." I said, my tone mildly annoyed. I was more scared than bothered, though. My father's abuse was still a very sensitive thing for me, even if everyone was just trying to help. Bruce looked at me, worry lining his face.

"Who pushed you?" He asked. My body tensed.

"...my father. But I'm sure it might have been an accident. I mean, he's going through some hard times and-"

"That's no excuse to push your own daughter out the window." Steve interrupted me, his voice stern, and a little angry. Bruce nodded in agreement.

"Does he do that a lot?" Bruce asked, finally setting my sore wrist down. I bit down hard on my lip.

"Do what?"

"Push you?"

"...no...like I said he's just stressed..." I pulled on my shirt, making sure it was fully covering my stomach. I had plenty of scars on my stomach that, though faint, Bruce could probably easily spot. The last thing I wanted was for him to ask how I had gotten all of them. Some of them I wasn't even sure about, anyway. Unfortunately for me, Bruce noticed my small action.

"I want you to remember that everything I do is to help you," he said, taking a deep breath. "This may be awkward for you, but I need you to take off your shirt." My eyes grew wide, as did Steve's. Tony let out a small laugh behind us, but stopped as Bruce turned his head and shot him an intimidating look.

"You're kidding, right?" I asked quietly. Bruce shook his head and glanced back at me.

"I need to check for further injury."

"No way!" I quickly stood up and leaped over the couch, landing softly on my feet on the other side. I heard someone grunt in surprise, but didn't turn around to look, fear coursing through me. I didn't want anyone to see what sorry state my skin was in. I started running to the nearest door, nearly crashing into Thor, who was coming into the room. He moved out of my way and watched me, his eyebrow raised with concern and confusion. I stopped running and hid behind him, using him as a sort of safe house.

"What is going on?" Thor asked. Bruce, standing now, let out a deep sigh.

"We need to catch her."

"Bruce wants to take her shirt off." Tony added, nodding. Thor stared at them for a while and then glanced down at me. I shook my head quickly, my breathing quick. He looked thoroughly confused. I almost felt bad for him.

"Why?" he asked slowly.

"Doctor stuff. Just grab her, please." Bruce said calmly. Thor turned around to do as he was told, but I sprinted away from him before he could, taking off down the hall.

"I'm on it!" Tony yelled from the other room. I swallowed hard and continued running, winding through the endless halls in search for a way out. This place was too big for me to even remotely know where I was, though I wasn't about to stop trying. I saw the stairs and sprinted to them, ready to run down them when I ran into something...hard. I stumbled backwards, nearly toppling over, and looked up to see Tony, wearing his suit. I stared at him for a moment in fear, my thoughts running rapid. It took me a moment, but soon my fear was relieved. Stark's suit ran on the energy from his arc reactor. I had already discovered earlier that I could shut down the suit easily, without killing him. A smirk grew over my face.

"You're kind of stupid for a genius." I sang mockingly, a few generated sparks snapping around my skin.

"Shit, I forgot about that..." he mumbled as I grabbed the arm of the suit and sent a shock through it, the power shutting down. The suit's reactor darkened and the metal went limp, crashing to the ground. I seemed to be getting better at pinpointing my energy, though it didn't make my abilities it any less confusing. I quickly stepped over the suit and continued down the stairs swiftly. I leaped off the last step and took off down another hall, hoping this was the way out. I turned one more hall and, luckily, saw the entrance. I grinned and headed for it. I wasn't sure where I would go, but I didn't want to stay here and get examined. Not now, at least. I wasn't about to leave all of these people behind for good.

"You need to think before you act, Annabelle," I mumbled as I ran for the door. I heard a sudden rush of footsteps behind me as I stepped out onto the sidewalk, and I looked over my shoulder to see Steve, who was just a few feet behind me. My heart thumped and I picked up my pace, though Steve caught the end of my shirt before I could get away from him. I tripped forward, letting out a weird yell as I hit the concrete, Steve falling after me. He recovered quicker than I did and quickly grabbed both of my shoulders, pinning me down so that I couldn't get away. I struggled for a moment before giving up, letting my head fall back on the concrete. I breathed heavily, my heart racing, as I looked up at Steve, who's face wasn't that far from mine.

"...fine. You got me." I muttered, watching his face.

"Sorry." he said, laughing lightly under his breath.


	7. Chapter 7

Steve dragged me back into the main room, where the others were still standing, waiting for my arrival. I refused to look at Bruce as he walked towards me, putting a hand on my shoulder, as a comforting gesture. Honestly, it just made me more uneasy.

"Annabelle, I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable. I just want to make sure you are okay. Everyone else can leave...if you promise not to run away again."

"No promises..." I mumbled under my breath, wishing I could disappear into thin air, just to get away from this mess. Funny, all these years I wanted to be in the presence of these people, these heroes, but now I just wanted to get away from them. No one had ever cared enough to look at my scars and bruises, and I didn't want them to. These scars were my business; my evidence of the stupid ongoing war between my father and I. And, as much as I wanted to see my father brought to justice for all he did, I didn't think I could actually handle watching him be punished. The scars were memos from the past, and only the past. They didn't need to be thought of in present tense. They represented what my life once was. I hoped that now my life could be something different; something worthwhile. I didn't want these little bits of my past to get in the way of that.

Bruce sighed, still examining my face, and then turned to nod at Steve, who nodded back. Yet another silent conversation. Steve cleared his throat and nudged Tony's arm, giving him a stern look. After a moment, Tony turned to Thor.

"Hey. Do you want to go see something cool in my room?" Tony asked casually, slipping his hands in his pockets. Thor raised his eyebrow, his defense immediately up.

"Is this a trap, Stark?"

"No. Trust me."

"If something happens, I am going to tear down this tower of yours." He threatened, though the threat seemed somewhat lighthearted. Tony rolled his eyes and smirked, then started for the door, Thor hesitantly following behind. Once they were out of the room, and out of hearing distance, Bruce turned his attention to me.

"I hope you feel better with them out. I know they're both...intimidating in their own ways." he said, pulling his glasses out of his shirt pocket and pushing them onto his face. "Once again, I'm sorry I have to ask you to do this. It will only be for a little while, then you can put your shirt back on and pretend it never happened. Okay?" I nodded slightly, trying to push my unease away, and peeked behind me, where Steve was still leaning against the wall. I turned back to Bruce, looking at him with worry, my voice low.

"He's staying?" I whispered. Bruce nodded his head once, his eyes shifting back behind me to Steve.

"He's just here to make sure you don't run again. He won't look. It's okay." Bruce gave me a small smile. I took a deep breath, biting my lip gently before sneaking another glance at Steve, my hands hovering nervously around the edge of my shirt. He had his back to us, his arms crossed over his chest securely. I knew Bruce was right, that he wouldn't look, but I still felt flustered, strange butterflies fluttering nervously in my stomach. I tore my eyes away and focused my attention on the wall, grabbing the fabric of my shirt and pulling it up, over my head. I held it draped over my arms for a few seconds before letting it fall to the ground by my feet, a chill running down my spine as the air touched my bare skin. I was really wishing now that Tony had chosen something a little less lacy for a bra, but Bruce didn't seem to notice at all, his eyes searching the skin of my stomach. This area was where I held most of my scars; my most vulnerable area. Many of these scars I couldn't even remember, though I wasn't upset by it. I'm sure I didn't want to remember all of the awful things that caused these permanent ridges in my skin. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Bruce lifted his hand up my torso, resting a finger at the top of my chest, where my most prominent scar was located. Just over my heart, obviously done with a surgical tool, was a large scar in the shape of what looked like a 't', the scarred tissue dark and abnormal looking against my olive skin. Bruce ran his finger down it gently, then looked at my face.

"Where did this one come from?" he asked, curiosity and concern lining his features. I took a deep breath and turned my eyes down, away from him.

"I don't remember." I said quietly.

"Annabelle, please, I want to help you. You have to tell me the truth."

"I am telling the truth," I said defensively, raising my voice a little. "I don't remember." I tilted my head up to look at him, giving him a serious look, my jaw clenched. He examined my face for a moment, his eyes locked on mine, before he finally nodded his head once.

"So, amnesia. You have amnesia. Did the explosion do this to you?" he asked slowly. I shook my head.

"I've had it for...a while. I don't remember. I can remember some things, little things, but a lot of my past is just…"

"Gone?"

"Yeah." I let out a sigh. "Gone." Bruce looked at me sympathetically, spreading his fingers out across my chest.

"Does this scar hurt? Is it sensitive?"

"It is a bit sensitive, I suppose." I looked down at his hand, then back up at him. He nodded once.

"I'm going to push on it." he said after a moment, looking at his own hand. "Is that okay?"

"I...yeah, I guess." I took a deep breath in, holding it for a moment before releasing.

"Okay. One, two...three," Bruce pushed his palm down hard over the scar, my body suddenly experiencing ripping pain, as if the scar itself was tearing open. I gasped and quickly grabbed Bruce's wrist, squeezing it as hard as I could, pulling his hand away with all my strength. He quickly took a few steps back, narrowing his eyes. I let go of him and took in a shaky breath, quickly falling over onto the couch's arm rest to sit.

"I'm so sorry. You okay?" Bruce asked, guilt lining his features. I bit my lip and nodded a little, taking another slightly shaky breath. I hesitantly brought my hand up to my chest, gently touching the risen area on my skin. The pain was gone, though I could still feel the ache in my bones, my body tingling from shock.

"Why?" I sputtered, looking up at him, my breathing heavy. Bruce shook his head slowly, taking a few slow steps towards me.

"I don't know. It shouldn't be that sensitive, unless," he carefully lifted my hand off my chest, examining it again. "How long ago did you get this scar? I know you can't remember how it happened, but there has to be some kind of time frame." I thought back to what I could remember of my life, my thoughts eventually focusing on the day where I had discovered the scar. I had been in the shower, and when I got out to dry my hair it was there, suddenly, red and raw looking, as if it hadn't healed fully yet. I remember being completely perplexed by it, wanting so badly to remember where it had come from, but not being able to think back to find the answer.

"About...two years ago, I think. I was twenty one." I said, slowly, looking at Bruce. "That's when I first noticed it."

"Interesting." He slipped his glasses off and back in his pocket, turning around. "I'm going to go get you something. I'll be back." He left the room, leaving me in silence for a moment, until Steve cleared his throat. I slowly turned my body until I was facing him, his back still turned to me. I watched him awkwardly, glad that he had enough self control not to turn around and look. In fact, he seemed to be studying the door, as if he was completely unaware of the situation behind him. I smiled a little to myself, letting it sink in that Captain America himself was standing across the room from me. I looked down at myself, at the lace covered bra that was a size too small, and then looked back up at Steve, a million silly fantasies running through my head. I let them linger for a moment before completely pushing them out of my mind, shaking my head a few times. I was being ridiculous, of course, but I wanted to allow myself one little fantasy before I got rid of all related thoughts completely. I couldn't function around him if I chose to keep these thoughts around, and not being able to act normally was the last thing I wanted. He was a colleague now, someone I had to look to for help and guidance. I couldn't see him as anything but that, from now on, teenage dreams aside.

Bruce came back in a few minutes later, a jar of white cream in his hands. He stepped in front of me and screwed the lid off, smiling at me.

"This is Magnesium Sulfate cream. It should help that pain, a little. I find it helps almost any kind of ache, so maybe it'll work for you. Let's hope, huh?" I nodded once, turning my body towards him again and pushing my hair away from my chest, tilting my chin up a tad. Bruce dipped his fingers in the cream and lifted his hand to my chest, spreading it a little over the scar. As he pushed down gently on it, however, a wave of pain rolled over me, my knees buckling suddenly. I gasped loudly as I fell to the ground, my knees knocking hard against the floor, black spots dancing across my vision. Bruce quickly set the cream down and looked at me, somewhat panicked.

"Steve, I need your help." he said, looking across the room, where I assumed Steve was still standing. I could hear a shuffle of feet and then Steve was in front of me, lifting me up off the ground, holding onto me securely. I stared up at him, frightened. I had never felt so much pain in my life, and that scared me more than anything. Tears welled in my eyes as I brought my face down and buried it in Steve's chest, my breathing coming in quick spurts.

"What's wrong? What's happening?" Steve asked, his words hard to hear over the buzzing in my ears. Bruce ignored him, yelling instead up at the ceiling.

"Jarvis, get Tony."

"Yes, sir." Jarvis responded. A moment later, after a rush of footsteps, Tony and Thor returned to the room.

"What's wrong now?" Tony's voice echoed through the room, around the walls. Bruce shushed him, putting a hand on my back as a comforting gesture. I took a shaky breath, pain still rippling across my chest. I felt as if my heart was being squeezed by an iron fist, the vessels popping and bloating from the force. A quiet whimper escaped my lips.

"I need you to take a look at this." Bruce gently patted my back and Steve turned me around, walking me towards Tony and Thor, both of whom looked concerned. I looked at them with fear in my eyes, still dazed and confused from the splitting pain.

"What is doing this?" Thor asked, watching me almost curiously. I bit my lip and tried to stay standing, leaning all of my weight back on Steve, the pain making my brain fuzzy.

"The scar on her chest was extremely sensitive, so I gave her some magnesium sulfate. The effect happened almost immediately." Bruce explained. I started to taste blood and realized I was biting my lip too hard, but I didn't care. That was the only thing stopping me from screaming.

"So, what, you think it's the cream? Do you think she's allergic?" Tony asked.

"I don't think an allergic reaction would be this serious right away. And it doesn't look like there is any irritation."

"Annabelle, what are you feeling?" Tony looked at me.

"M-My heart," I sputtered, quickly biting down on my lip again after I finished speaking. Tony and Bruce exchanged a look before Tony turned his eyes back to me, watching me curiously. I didn't know what was so interesting...I just wanted it to stop. My legs gave out again and Steve quickly wrapped his arms around my torso, keeping me held up. I squirmed in pain and felt the blood from my lip run over my chin, dripping down onto my chest.

"Is someone going to do something about this, or are we just going to watch her suffer?" Steve asked, his voice irritated.

"Maybe if we wipe it off..." Bruce started, Thor already running out of the room in search for a cloth. In seconds he reappeared, a wet wash cloth in hand. He stepped forward and gently began wiping the cream off of my chest, occasionally glancing at my face to see if his efforts had any effect. Finally, after several moments, the pain began to lift. Thor finished wiping the cream off and I sunk back onto Steve, resting my head on his chest, a wave of relief from the lack of pain swelling over me. I took in a few rushed breaths and hung there limply, the only thing keeping me up being Steve's strong arms. Bruce turned and ran to the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water and handing it to me. I waited a moment before gaining enough strength to lift my arm, taking it from him and putting it to my bloodied lips. I swallowed a big gulp of it, the liquid sparking and snapping violently as it ran down my throat. I squeaked and dropped the glass, which shattered as it hit the floor, showering my feet in water. Everyone flinched and looked at me, a blend of emotions on their faces.

"I-I'm sorry," I said quickly, licking my lips nervously, the taste of blood still strong. I shifted my eyes down to the broken glass, shards sticking up places all across the floor. Taking a shaky breath, I tilted my head back to look at Steve, who was watching me with worry. He slowly lifted me up more, my feet off the ground, and brought me to the couch, setting me down carefully. I laid my head on the couch pillow and tried to breath normally, putting a hand over the scar on my chest. It felt as if my heart had been hollowed out, the ache of the subsided pain still present. Slowly the others made their way towards me, gathering around the couch, watching me as if I were some sort of science experiment.

"Did it hurt to drink, just then?" Bruce asked curiously, taking the still damp cloth from Thor's hands and wiping the blood off of my face, then wiping his fingers off. I nodded, watching his fingers move as if mesmerized, unable to produce words. I felt as if my head were going to explode, my ears buzzing and my eyes fading in and out of focus. Bruce furrowed his brows and sat silent for a moment, thinking to himself as he tossed the cloth onto the coffee table. I watched it fall, though I could see Thor out of the corner of my eye, watching my every move, mumbling to himself quietly.

"Are you sure you are of Earth?" he spoke up after a few minutes, breaking the strange silence of the room. I nodded my head once. He fell silent again.

"Well, if it helps at all, you look good in what you are wearing." Tony said, already joking again, probably to ease the tension. Everyone turned to look at him, giving him many different looks in response to the ridiculous statement. At this point I was too mentally and physically exhausted to be self conscious or embarrassed, so I made no comment. "Remind me to take you out to get one that actually fits, though. I mean, I'm not complaining about that one. But...that's got to be uncomfortable. Everything all squished in there, tucked away like-"

"Tony." Steve interrupted him, a disgusted look in his face. I glanced over at him, finding he had just a little bit of pink flooding his cheeks. I smiled faintly to myself.

"Hey, just trying to lighten the mood." Tony said with a shrug. Steve growled and shook his head.

"I swear..."

"I wonder if she can..." Thor mumbled to himself suddenly, then trailed off, in his own world. Bruce bent down to take my pulse, pushing his fingers against my wrist and staying still for a minute, then nodding his head. He stood and turned to Tony.

"She should rest for the night. Is there a room she can stay in?"

"Of course. Up the stairs and to the left, down that hall, there should be a few. Pick whatever you want."

"Thanks." Bruce looked to Steve, who took the hint and picked me up carefully, adjusting me in his arms for a moment before nodding. Bruce started out of the room and Steve followed, trying to hold me steady as he toted me up the stairs. I was starting to lose my vision, so I didn't realize until we were already inside one of the rooms that we had even finished walking up the stairs, my head buzzing and fizzing, as if several flies had tunneled into my ears and were now buzzing about inside my brain. Steve laid me on the bed gently and pulled the covers over me, tucking me in securely before straightening his back. I immediately closed my eyes and started to drift to sleep, the soft covers wrapping me in much needed warmth and comfort. It seemed like it had been so long since I had last laid down to sleep, when really it had only been a day.

I listened halfheartedly as Steve and Bruce held a quiet, mumbled conversation, my mind already wandering with sleep in between their words.

"Someone will need to take shifts and watch her."

"Do you think she will last the night?"

"I can only hope. Her condition is a lot more concerning than I expected. If she really did go through that explosion, and gained some sort of abilities from it, her body is going to be going through a lot of changes. It'll either thrive off of this new energy, or reject it."

"And if she rejects it?"

"She won't last very long, I'm afraid. I've never seen this specific type of energy, but I'm going to guess it follows the same pattern as the others I've experienced. It'll eat away at her until there's nothing left to eat."

"...and if she makes it?"

"I'd say we should test her when she's feeling better. See what she can do. She could be a big asset."

"Should we tell SHIELD? Fury?"

"I'm not sure yet."

"I don't know if he'll like this..."

"He won't, probably, given the circumstances. He won't trust her. I'm surprised Tony trusts her."

"It's because she's...beautiful."

"Maybe. Tony always has been weak for that. But he wouldn't let a threat stay this long if he thought she was extremely dangerous. I trust his decision."

"But we'll have to still get Fury's input at some point. He'll find out whether we want him to or not. What if he doesn't want her around at all?"

"It doesn't matter. We'll keep her safe for as long as we can. She's been through enough."

"I know, but..." I faded completely, not hearing a word more.


	8. Chapter 8

I woke up screaming, my heart pounding and sweat beading on my skin. The lights in the room buzzed loudly and flickered on and off, as if pulsing with my every heart beat, my mind reeling from the nightmares I had just awoken from. Images of death and despair skipped through my mind as I stopped my screaming and tried to catch my breath, jumping a little in surprise as the door to my room flung open. The four men of the house shuffled in quickly, running to my side.

"Annabelle, what's wrong?" Bruce asked, a concerned look on his face. I took a calming breath and ran a hand through my hair, the sweat from my forehead collecting on my fingers. Disgusted and mildly embarrassed, I quickly stuffed my hand under the comforter.

"I...it's nothing...I just had a nightmare. That's all." I spilled out, my accent heavily lining my words. I opened my mouth to say something else and then closed my eyes, hanging my head. Guess there was no use trying to pretend my accent wasn't there now.

"Want to talk about it?" Steve asked, somewhat looking over Tony's shoulder. I shook my head, lifting my head to look up at him. I was sure I looked a mess, but right now that didn't seem to matter. I would have to be embarrassed about that later.

"I'm okay. I just need to breathe a little bit..."

"Do you want a glass of water?" Tony asked, to which I quickly shook my head. After what happened with the water last night, I didn't want to chance drinking any more this soon. Although, I would have to drink again eventually...  
>"I only need some time. Let me shower and get dressed," I looked around at everyone and then looked down at my hands, still hidden by the comforter.<p>

"I'll get you some of Pepper's clothes to change into," Tony said, crossing his arms. "They might be a bit of a tight fit, but they'll have to do for now. I'll have Jarvis drop them off when you're done showering."

"Thank you," I looked up at him gratefully. "And, please, thank Ms. Potts for me too."

"I will."

"Speaking of that," I said, tilting my head a bit to the side, "where is Ms. Potts?"

"Doing business abroad for Stark Industries. She's been out for a few months. She should be back soon, hopefully." Tony answered, and I nodded.

"Okay, come on. Let's leave her alone to get ready," Bruce said, backing away towards the door. "Holler if you need anything, Annabelle."

"Okay. Thank you," I gave him a small smile and watched as everyone filed out, shutting the door behind them, leaving me alone. I waited a minute before sliding out of bed, pulling the sheets back neatly and then heading into the bathroom. I glanced at myself in the mirror and let out a groan, finding my hair was sticking out in every direction. With as much hair as I had, it almost always looked like a fuzzy mess in the morning, even with a good night's sleep. Now, with all the tossing and turning I had done, plus the excess amount of sweat it was soaked in, my hair looked like a disaster.

I made a face at myself in the mirror, just realizing that I was still wearing only a bra and some shorts. Color flooded through my cheeks as I stared at myself, a hot mess of a reflection. All my life I had tried so hard to make a great first impression on everyone I met, but it seemed that here, with the people who had always mattered most, I couldn't seem to do that. Maybe it was bad luck; or, maybe, I couldn't be fake in front of them. I couldn't slap on that smile and charm. I couldn't be that young beauty that every scientist familiar with my father had heard about. Right now, I looked exactly how I felt. And, maybe that was how it was supposed to be. I couldn't be fake all of the time, despite what I had grown up thinking.

I stripped off what clothes I had on and stepped into the shower, turning it on and letting it wash away the awful feeling that the nightmares had given me.

By the time I showered, got dressed—in jeans and a loose t-shirt, thank goodness—and came downstairs, everyone was already at the table eating breakfast. They all stopped their idle chatter and looked to me as I entered, making me feel a little self-conscious. I shifted my weight to one leg awkwardly and stood there in the entrance to the room, not sure what to do.

"Did you have a nice, uh..." Thor started and then cut off, seeming to be searching for words.

"Shower." Bruce finished for him, smirking.

"Yes. Shower." Thor repeated. They both watched me, waiting for a response.

"Oh...uh...yeah. I did. Thank you." I held my arm behind my back, lightly scraping my sock across the floor beneath me, the room falling silent again for a moment,luntil Steve cleared his throat.

"Do you want some breakfast?" he asked.

"I'm not really hungry, but thank you for the offer." I should have been hungry after all I had been through, but for some reason food just didn't sound appetizing. Actually, the thought of eggs and bacon, though they smelled nice as they wafted through the room, seemed revolting to me. I glanced at Tony, wondering why he was being so quiet this morning. From what I had experienced, he seemed to be the one that always had something to say, whether that be something intelligent or semi degrading. He was watching me, a perplexed look on his face, as if he had discovered a gold mine and was thinking over his possibilities of what to do with it. I awkwardly looked away from him and let my eyes drift around the room, still drawing patterns with my foot on the ground.

"Do you want to sit down?" Steve asked, standing up and offering me his chair. I looked at him in surprise and then looked at the chair, not sure what to say. I'd never had someone offer me their chair. Sure, some guys had pulled chairs out for me when they were attempting to 'woo' me at parties, but no one had ever sacrificed their comfort for my own.

Bruce chuckled from the corner.

"You have to remember he's from the forties. He's a little more of a gentleman than most men." he said, giving me a smile. I smiled a bit in return, looking up at Steve again before nodding, taking the offer and sitting down.

"Thank you, Steve." I said quietly, suddenly feeling shy at the situation. Steve smiled a little and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, nodding his head once.

"Not a problem, ma'am." I felt my cheeks heat up and quickly grabbed a glass of orange juice near me, taking a big drink in attempts to cover my face momentarily. When I felt I was safe, I set the glass back down.

"That was mine." Thor commented, taking the glass himself and peering inside at what was left of the juice.

"I'm so sorry. I, uh, got really thirsty and didn't think about what I was grabbing."

"It is fine. I can get another." He shot me a bright smile and then lifted the glass high up into the air. "Ano-"

"Don't you dare!" Steve and Tony both screamed, startling me. I looked over at them with wide eyes and then looked back at Thor, his glass still held high. After a moment he lowered it, carefully setting it back on the table. He grumbled under his breath and reached for the pitcher of orange juice at the center of the table, filling his cup up to the top.

"Thank you, Thor," Bruce said, sipping his coffee. Thor nodded once and grunted a little in response, holding the juice out to me.

"More?"

"Oh, uh, no thank you." I smiled a bit as he lifted the glass to his lips and downed the juice, setting the glass back down. I shifted my eyes around the room, resting them on Tony once again, who was still blatantly staring at me. I cleared my throat awkwardly and looked down at my hands.

"Do you want to go outside, Annabelle?" Tony asked, after a moment. I looked up.

"Right now?" I asked, slowly.

"Yes."

"Why?"  
>"It's nice outside."<p>

"Yes, but-"

"Do you want to, or not?" he interrupted me, crossing his arms.

"I...I guess?" I glanced around at the others, wondering if this was some sort of plan, but everyone looked just as confused as I felt. I turned back to Tony.

"Great. Let's go, then." He stood and nodded at the others, who hesitantly stood as well, leaving their breakfast behind. Tony grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the room and down the hall, catching me by surprise. He pulled me along until we came to an elevator, the others trailing behind us. The elevator doors were gorgeous, as expected, and as Tony punched a few buttons to open it I could see that the inside was just as nice. Tony stepped in and leaned against the wall of the elevator as I peered in, examining the décor. I slowly stepped in, but was roughly pushed back out by Tony, a smirk on his face. I stumbled back, catching myself before I lost my balance.

"What was that for?" I asked, glaring at him.

"You don't get to take the elevator. You get to walk to the top." Tony responded, that Stark grin still hanging on his face.

"Are you kidding me?" I sputtered. "That's crazy! There has to be hundreds of stairs to the top. You're going to make me climb all that?"

"This is test number one," he said, motioning for Bruce to join him. Bruce entered the elevator, turning around to look at me. "Only Bruce and I get to ride in the elevator." Tony finished.

"Sorry, guys." Bruce smiled sympathetically.

"Hey, wait. Why can't Thor and I use that?" Steve asked, clearly a bit annoyed. Tony chuckled under his breath, which only seemed to bother Steve more.

"Because you two are going to race Annabelle there. Whoever makes it to the top first gets to eat lunch." Tony explained, quickly pushing a few buttons from inside, the doors easing shut before any of us could argue. The elevator let out a 'ding', and then they were gone. I turned around and looked at the other two, who both looked confused, though Thor looked mildly determined. I swallowed, a lump forming in my throat. How the hell was I going to race them? One was a god, and the other was a genetically enhanced super soldier. I had no chance at all.

"Maybe I shouldn't have skipped out on breakfast," I mumbled, hoping that the lack of food and sudden physical activity wouldn't make me pass out. That was all I needed today.

"We don't have to play Stark's game," Steve grumbled, "Let's just walk up there." I looked from him to Thor, shrugging my shoulders. I didn't want to make Tony mad, but if the others were boycotting this 'test' of his as well, there was no way only I would get in trouble. We'd all go down together.

That is, until Thor took off running.

"Hey!" Steve and I yelled out, in unison. We glanced at each other, both sharing a look of shock before I started after Thor, Steve grunting and following behind. He passed me within the first few seconds, as expected, obviously determined now to beat his otherworldly friend. I didn't know what it was with guys and competition; someone always had to be better. Then again, I wouldn't have minded winning the race, just so I could show Tony I could, or prove that I had what it took. Still, there was no way I could run faster than these two, who were already dozens of stair ahead of me.

Then again, there had to be a reason behind this test. Did Tony think I was capable of that sort of speed? I inhaled, realizing that even though I had been running for quite some time, I wasn't out of breath. In fact, I felt fine. Maybe I could do this, or, at least catch up to them. Maybe all I needed was some focus and confidence in myself. I squeezed my hands into tight fists and then let them go, taking a deep breath in, as if sucking in all of the energy flowing through the walls around me. I shifted my attention to that new energy in my body, those brilliant and colorful little strands of light, and tried to focus on bringing them out. I bit down lightly on my lip and imagined myself running faster, that energy flowing through me naturally until it slid down my legs and curled on my toes. I could feel my pace picking up, my body moving faster and faster until I was flying over multiple steps at a time, nearing the two boys ahead that once seemed so far away. It felt as if I were gliding, my body being whisked up the stairs as if carried by a wisp of wind. As exhilarating as it felt, it also felt natural, soothing, as if this was all I was ever meant to do.

I passed Steve within the next few seconds, not even turning to look back at him as I did. I could feel his surprise even without seeing him, his energy colors spiking as I blew past him, focusing my attention now on Thor. I ran my tongue over my teeth and quickly sidestepped around him, then cut him off and continued on, leaving him and Steve both in the dust. This was it. We were close to the door that would lead up to the top of Stark Tower, where Tony and Bruce would be waiting, and I was going to get there first. I pushed forward and grabbed the little handle of the door, unable to stop my feet from moving. I got it open as fast as I could, skidding across the ground outside as I tried to get myself to stop, my body still moving too quickly. I panicked as I came up on Tony, knocking him harshly to the ground. We slid a few feet, some dust kicking up around us, until we finally were able to stop. I batted my eyes, my corneas burning with light, and quickly looked down at Tony, hoping I hadn't injured him. But, he didn't seem to be upset or hurt in the least. In fact, he looked pleased.

"Well, I wasn't exactly expecting that," he said, coughing a little, "but, good job, kid." I inhaled quickly and pushed off of him, holding my hand out to him to help him up. He grasped my hand and stood, brushing himself off before examining the damage. "Looks like I might have to replace this shirt. The back is ripped a bit."

"I'm really sorry about that," I stuttered, looking down at my hands. "Guess I have to work on stopping."

"We all have to start somewhere." he said with a smirk. I looked back to him, smiling a bit. I could feel Steve and Thor finally coming onto the balcony behind me and chose not to look at them. They had just been beaten by a girl, after all. I didn't know if they would be mad or not. Best not push it...for now.

"So, how'd you do it?" Tony asked, and I snapped my attention back to him.

"Hm?"

"How did you manage to beat them?"

"Oh, I...well I just, sort of...did." I felt at a loss for words, not sure I could explain what I had experienced. "I didn't think too much about it. I realized that you must have known I could beat them, and so I just...did. It wasn't necessarily anything I did. At least, I don't think so. It felt natural to me." I explained.

"Interesting," Bruce murmured.

"Were you afraid of losing? Afraid I'd be disappointed?" Tony's grin was back, his eyes bright with the many jokes and comments I'm sure he had running through his brain. I opened my mouth to respond, but he continued on without my answer. "Speaking of losing, how's it going, boys?" Tony peeked over my shoulder and I dared to turn around, getting a good look at Steve and Thor. They were both sweating, though Steve appeared to be the more tired of the two, his breathing heavier. He shot a smile at me, his blue eyes glistening.

"I've got to say, I really wasn't expecting that," He shook his head in disbelief, still watching me with almost...curiosity. I shifted my eyes away from him in hopes to keep from blushing, looking instead at Thor, who seemed both disappointed and confused.

"I lost. To a female who is not even a warrior of Asgard." Thor mumbled, running a hand through his golden hair. He met my eyes, his emotions changing. "I do not understand what you are, Annabelle Green, but I see greatness in you. With work, you could exceed the powers of even the warriors I have come to know from my home. Take pride in that. Do not let that go to waste." He ended with the hint of a smile, my heart melting in my chest. Thor, god of thunder, one of the mighty Avengers, believed I had potential. And, by the sound of it, a lot of potential. I had never felt so proud, nor so determined.

Tony let out a chuckle and walked past me, slapping a hand down on Thor's shoulder.

"Laying it on thick this morning, aren't we?" Tony asked with a grin. Thor gave him a confused look.

"What? What is thick? And where am I laying it?"

"Okay, now onto test number two," Tony started, walking back over to me as Steve leaned closer to Thor, trying to quietly explain the phrase 'to lay it on thick'. I smiled a bit as Tony draped an arm around my shoulder, explaining the second test, though I wasn't really listening. I was more fascinated with how everyone around me felt. Not looked. _Felt. _They seemed to be radiating happiness and peace, a calming air hanging around them like a pleasant mist. Just being in their presence made me feel enlightened, as if I were on cloud nine.

"Got it?" Tony asked, his voice suddenly loud in my ear. I snapped back and looked over at him, blinking away my thoughts.

"Excuse me?" I asked. Tony let out a low and over-dramatic sigh.

"You weren't even listening."

"No," I admitted.

"Thor, get Mjolnir." Tony turned his head and I did as well, looking at Thor, who still looked mildly confused about the past conversation.

"Aye." He held out his hand in front of him, his palm out as if he were reaching to grab a vine to swing on. I stared at his hand, then looked around at the others for answers. By the looks on their faces, I wasn't about to get one.

"What's Mjo-" I started, but was suddenly interrupted as something whizzed past my head, picking up my hair like a strong wind and blowing it over my face. I let out a breath in shock and spit some hair out of my mouth, taking a hand and smoothing it back over my head so that I could see. In front of me, held in Thor's once empty hand, was a large hammer, engravings lining the edges. I had seen this hammer before, though only at a distance. The news could only get so close when they were reporting on the Avengers, after all, and Thor seemed to be the least filmed of them all. Still, I realized this was the hammer that Thor used as his weapon. The famous hammer. But what kind of name was Mjolnir?

Thor threw the hammer down, the metal cracking against the ground beneath my feet and causing me to stumble. Cracks had developed from where the hammer lay, indicating that this hammer really packed a punch. After a few moments of silence, and no movement, I finally lifted my eyes from the hammer and looked around.

"Pick it up." Tony prompted, nudging me. I opened my mouth in protest but quickly shut it, shrugging my shoulders. I leaned down and grasped the large handle, pulling up. Only, the hammer didn't budge. I watched it curiously for a moment before pulling up on it again, only to get the same result. It was as if the hammer weighed a few tons, and there was no budging it. I dropped the handle and craned my neck to look up at Thor, who was wearing a grand smile. I knew Thor was strong, but there was no way he was that strong. There had to be some other aspect to this that I didn't understand.

"What is this?" I asked, still bent over the hammer.

"Only Thor can wield Mjolnir." Bruce explained.

"If you were listening to my explanation, you would already know that." Tony added. I huffed.

"Then why are you telling me to pick it up? I'm not Thor."

"Thank God," Tony muttered, which I ignored.

"I believe Stark thinks you may be able to use it anyway," Steve said, his arms crossed. "Am I right?"

"For once," Tony responded. "Annabelle, if your powers mainly revolve around energy, you may be able to somehow use Thor's hammer. It's just alien magic. I'm sure there's a way you can figure it out."

"But I'm not magic," I said slowly, "and I'm not Asgardian, nor am I an alien at all. This seems a little out of my league."  
>"Don't underestimate yourself, Green." Tony said with a smile. "Try it. Focus." I sighed, wrapping my hands around the handle again.<p>

"This is a little ridiculous," I grumbled, pulling with all my strength with no results. I let out a breath and tried again, the veins in my arms popping out, sweat beating on my forehead. At this rate, all I was going to do was throw out my back.

"Don't try too hard." Bruce warned, as if he knew what I was thinking. I nodded my head and puffed some hair out of my face, this time trying a different approach. I didn't pull. I closed my eyes and breathed in, reading into the little fog of energy surrounding the hammer. I hadn't known it was there until now, but suddenly the golden light was so clear to me, so obvious, as if it had been there the whole time. I became aware of my own little strands of light again and forced them to extend, the little light blue strings expanding from my fingers and wrapping around the golden handle of Mjolnir, like little tiny nerves. They were like an extension of my soul, my mind, crawling down and collecting at the base of the hammer until the golden flow of light surrounding it was tinted blue. I opened my eyes.

With one tug the hammer came flying up, suddenly weightless in my hands. I held it out in front of me, examining the intricate details lining the sides. It really was a beautiful weapon, this Mjolnir, though I could feel the power surging within it. I could only imagine what Thor felt when he held it. It was bonded to him, after all. I was only borrowing it. I stayed silent for a moment as the others watched me, a mixture of emotions crossing their faces. It took me longer than it should have to realize what I had just done, but now it quickly dawned on me. I had just lifted Thor's hammer. The magical hammer that was used time and time again to defend this planet, as well as countless others. The weapon of choice to Thor, widely considered a godly being. And I was holding it in front of me like a toy. A smile crept over my face as I let go of the handle with my left hand, swinging the hammer with my right playfully. I couldn't seem to tap into any of the powers that the hammer possessed, not that I should have even thought about trying, but just holding it was enough of an accomplishment to me. I spun it around once more before holding it out to Thor, presenting it like the sacred object it was.

"I believe this is yours?" I asked innocently, the corner of my mouth lifting into a smirk. Thor watched me in awe as he slowly took the hammer out of my hands, inspecting it for damage before dropping it next to him.

"I'll be honest; I didn't expect that to work," Tony said suddenly, clapping his hands together. "Congratulations. Well done. Bravo." He came closer and ruffled my hair like a child, messing it up more than it had already been. I shot him a slight glare and smoothed it back down, though at this point it was deciding to already have a mind of it's own.

"Thanks, I guess." I said, letting my hands drop to the side.

"Great. Next test." He smiled. Tony really was persistent, it seemed. It didn't look like I was going to get a break.

"I'd like to take that lunch now," I said, sighing. He ignored me and took me by the shoulders, walking me over to the ledge of the building, as far as we could go without falling off. I looked over the edge uneasily, never having been so high up in my life.

"Can you fly?" Tony whispered, his words dangerous. I swallowed hard, my eyes widening.

"Tony what exactly are you going to-" Steve began to yell from where he was standing, but Tony answered his question before he could finish. He gave me a good shove off the side of the building, my legs tingling as my feet slipped off the ledge. I screamed in fear, tumbling through the air, twisting and turning. I was dangerously close to the wall of the building beside me, but that wasn't what I was worrying about. It was the dangerously approaching sidewalk that caught my attention, though I could barely keep my focus on it with my hair whipping around my face.

"I can fly! I can fly! I can fly!" I screamed at myself, my body sparking with agitation. I tried to focus on imaginary wings, levitation, anything, but nothing seemed to be happening. "Fly, dammit!" I yelled louder, trying to flap my arms like a bird. Really, all that accomplished was me looking like an idiot midair. I started to panic, the ground creeping closer and closer, my eyes burning from the wind. "I can't fly!" I screeched, covering my face with my arms to hide my eyes. I was ready for the impact of the ground when something suddenly caught me by the arms and sent me flying upwards, my stomach dropping at the movement. I hesitantly opened my eyes in surprise and tilted my head back to see Tony, fully suited up in his Iron Man armor. I let out a slight breath of relief and let him drop me back at the top, my legs shaking and my heart pounding uncontrollably and unnaturally in my chest.

"Tony, that was extremely stupid. What were you thinking?!" Steve started, going off on him, which I normally would have found flattering. Right now, I could barely even focus my scattered brain enough to keep myself standing.

"You realize the scare of that could have given her a heart attack?" Bruce added, somewhat angrily. He grabbed my arm and pressed his fingers against my wrist to check my pulse, like I was a sick patient. I was surprised he could keep his hand steady enough to get a good reading, considering my arm was shaking so badly.

"You're right. That was stupid. Maybe if she knew it was coming, she could catch herself," Tony said. He turned to me, a hard look on his face, and spoke seriously, "Annabelle. I'm going to push you off the edge." Everyone tried to speak at once, opposed to the idea, but before anyone could stop him he had shoved me off again, and I went falling towards my death...again. Something told me Tony wasn't going to catch me this time; I had to survive this on my own. I held my breath and spun around so my feet were facing the ground, spreading my arms out to the sides to keep from spinning violently. I relaxed my body and prepared myself to make contact, electricity snapping around my skin. I could hear a few gasps of terror and surprise from the people down below me as I freely fell towards the sidewalk, the pedestrians all scattering and moving out of the way frantically. I glanced around at them, coming up on them quickly, and then closed my eyes, completely focused. I heard a loud crash as the air around me stirred up dust, little particles forcing themselves into my mouth and up my nose, pressure under my feet. My legs mildly ached, but it seemed my body was too in shock to feel much else. I put my hand to the ground in hopes to steady myself, my brain fuzzy with nausea. After a few seconds of collecting myself, I opened my eyes, finding that a large cloud of dust and debris was settling over my skin. I coughed, blowing some of the dust out of my lungs, and waved the cloud out of my face, standing up. I heard a quick shuffling of feet around me, and soon Steve and Thor were standing above me, peering down. I hadn't realized until now that I had created a hole that was at least a foot and a half deep, putting me a bit below the sidewalk's surface. I blinked some dirt out of my eyes and rested my head back, groaning.

"What just happened?" I mumbled, still disoriented, trying to focus my blurry eyes on the Avengers' faces.

"Well," Thor scratched the back of his neck, his eyes moving around to examine the area around me. "You have made a very large crater in the ground."

"And you aren't dead." Tony added, as if it wasn't obvious, landing just beside my 'crater'. His landing only brought up more dust, and I coughed again, my senses overwhelmed. Steve shook his head in annoyance and shot a glare at Tony.

"I'll say it again: That was so stupid," Steve spat. He held out his hand to help me out of the hole, lifting me up and brushing my shoulders off with his hand. He hesitated a moment and then brushed his hand through my hair, which I was certain was even more of a mess now than he or I could fix. I watched his face, trying to keep my eyes from straying to the hole I had made, the damage clearly visible in the corner of my eye. Just thinking about that hole was making me dizzy all over again.

"Thank you," I sputtered, realizing Steve was probably waiting for some sort of recognition. He nodded his head and then looked at Tony, who was running his mouth excitedly to Thor, who looked to be only half listening.

"-think we should do a few more tests to see what she can do. There could be endless possibilities to her powers. We just need to get one of those Tesla coils and-"

"Tony let's give her a break for now. I don't know how much she can take in a day." Steve said, somewhat defensively. Tony grumbled and waved him off.

"Fine. Tomorrow then." He thought for a second. "But, one more thing." He turned to me and grabbed me firmly by the shoulders, his metal hands cold against my skin. "If you can land from that far, you might me able to jump. Not as good as flying, but it's still something. Want to give it a go?"

"Uh, sure," I answered, still a bit out of it. I pulled myself away from him and looked up at the tower. "That's a long way up, but I guess I'll try." My body and mind were exhausted, but I decided to give it a shot. Tony seemed to be pretty spot on with everything else I could do so far; Plus I didn't think he would leave me alone until I tried it. I took a deep breath in and bent my knees, readying myself to jump. I sent those tiny strands of energy to my legs, the motions becoming more natural every time I tried, electricity dancing around my skin. To the people who still scattered the streets, I'm sure I either looked stunning or terrifying. Maybe both.

I sprung up, my body gliding upwards again, my mind clearing. The wind whipped against my face as I reached higher and higher, my body feeling weightless, just as the hammer had before. It wasn't long, though, before I could feel myself start to slow down, still a ways away from the top of the building. I puffed out my cheeks in determination, refusing to fall all the way back down, and grabbed the side of the building, my body slamming against a window. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment to collect myself and then looked down, finding myself to be dangling over the city. I inhaled and put my feet to the wall, planting them firmly on the side. If I could run at such fast speeds upright, there was a possibility that I would be able to 'defy' gravity and run along the side of the building. If I could get up enough momentum, I could reach the top without having to climb. "Okay, Annabelle. You've got this." I told myself, letting go of my grasp on the building and jolting upwards, focusing on keeping my feet on the surface of the wall. I could feel my body arc backwards but refused to let myself fall, tipping myself forward and speeding up. In a few short moments I was at the edge of the building, where Tony had pushed me off. I grabbed the ledge, flipping myself backwards, up and over, onto my feet. I was suddenly grateful of all those years of dance and gymnastics that my father had forced me through, even though at the time it didn't seem they would amount to anything. Apparently, they were helping now. And, I was sure all of my other 'hobbies' that my father tried to keep me busy with would come in handy as well. I'd just have to wait and see.

Bruce met me at the top, looking me over.

"You survived,"

"Barely," I laughed under my breath, smiling a bit. A rush of movement behind me told me that Tony and the others had made their way back up, which was confirmed when Tony dropped Steve right next to me. Steve grumbled and brushed his hair down, mumbling something about air crafts.

"Well, good job once again. I thought you were going to fall back down, but you thought on your feet. Literally." Tony said, retracting his mask and clapping his metal hands together a few times. "You're a smart cookie."

"Did you just realize that?" I asked with a smirk. Tony's grin grew and he patted me on the shoulder, turning around and walking back towards the entrance to the tower.

"I'm hungry. Lunch time." he said, metal, claw like arms reaching out from the floors to take his armor. I quickly scurried after him, a though popping up in my mind.

"Tony, when can I buy more clothes?" I asked. "I don't have any money on me, but I'm sure I can-"

"I'm buying. You can take my credit card." he responded, as we stepped inside. The cool air of the building flooded my body with relief.

"You really don't have to..."  
>"I insist. Just don't go too crazy, okay?"<br>"Yes, sir."  
>"Lose the 'sir'"<br>"Yes...man?" He chuckled and I smiled a bit.

"I don't have time to take you out, though, so you're on your own."

"I don't really know my way around New York,"

"So?"

"I-" I stopped walking and let him walk ahead of me. I made a face at him behind his back, something that I wouldn't normally do if I wasn't so tired and disoriented. Still, right now, he deserved it.

A gentle hand touched my shoulder, and I looked over to see Bruce, who had obviously followed us in.

"I'll take you. Don't worry." he said. "Want to go after lunch?" I nodded quickly, ready to get out of Pepper's tight-fit clothes and into some that were actually my size.

"Yes please," I said.


	9. Chapter 9

I peered into every store front window we passed, unable to hide my excitement as I gazed upon the different styles of clothes that were displayed on manikins. Technically, I had never gone out shopping for myself like this. The things I had back home were things that my father had picked for me, and occasionally—very rarely—he would ask my opinion on a color. Even when I was in New York a few years ago, for whatever reason that I couldn't remember, I didn't have time to go around looking in stores. Of course, in my father's eyes, being able to chose my own clothing was too much freedom. Every time I asked, he would say, 'What, you don't like my sense of fashion? Come now, Annie, that's insulting'. Was it, though?

"Isn't that gorgeous?" I exclaimed, pushing my finger to the glass, where a manikin wearing a deep red satin dress stood. It was low cut in a flattering way and layered towards the bottom, something that my father would have found way too elegant. Besides, he was never one for the color red. Bruce chuckled under his breath beside me and nodded his head.

"Yeah, I like that one. I liked the last few too." he said, his smile reflected in the glass. I turned towards him, clasping my hands behind my back.

"I'm sorry. I'm being annoying. I need to calm down," I took in a few deep breaths and closed my eyes, trying to calm the excited energy that raced through my body. _You're a grown woman, Annabelle. Stop acting like a five year old. You're only looking at clothes._ Oh, but what exciting clothes they were!

Bruce chuckled, lightly touching my shoulder.

"You don't have to calm down. This is entertaining," I opened my eyes to look at him, a slight smirk lining his face. "Besides, I don't blame you. This is a new experience for you, obviously. You deserve to be excited."

"You're sure? I'm not too much?" I asked, to which he chuckled again.  
>"You're just fine." He smiled. "Should we go inside here, then? This place looks nice. You have to stop browsing and actually start shopping here soon." Bruce pointed to the entrance of the shop, fancy lettering scrawled across the door with a name I didn't recognize.<p>

"This place is so fancy, though. I don't really need anything fancy," I said, stuffing my hands in my pockets.

"Tony has plenty of...celebrations. You'll probably need something like this at some point." Bruce answered, watching me. I rocked back and forth on my heels.

"I don't even have any money," As if to prove my point, I pulled out the pockets of the pants I was wearing, then crossed my arms.  
>"That's fine. Tony's treat, remember?" He dug a credit card out of his pocket—most likely Tony's—and flashed it at me.<p>

"I don't want to waste his money on something silly like this,"

"I don't think he would mind if you bought a few dresses. He has plenty to spend." He smirked a bit. "Really, he'd be more than happy to help you out."

"You don't think he'll be mad at all?"

"Not at all." Bruce gave me a reassuring smile. I took a deep breath and nodded.

"Then I guess we're going in here. But I won't buy too much, I promise."

That was a lie. In just a half an hour I was crammed in a dressing room piled with dresses and fancy clothing, Bruce waiting beyond the door. The first few dresses ended up disappointments, not fitting exactly right, but by the time I got to the fourth one things started looking better. This dress was a light shade of purple, bunched up at the bottom, strapless. It hugged my figure nicely, but not too tight, offering the perfect balance that every girl looked for in a gown. I took a deep breath in and brushed some wrinkles from the fabric, pulling my hair out from behind me and pushing it forward, where my dark wavy curls blended nicely with the color of the dress. I could hardly recognize myself as I looked in the mirror, the dress far more elegant than anything I had ever been in. I looked like a princess. Now, all I needed was a tiara.

"Are you, uh, doing okay in there?" Bruce called from outside, his voice muffled by the door. He must have heard the lack of movement and found it suspicious. I cleared my throat and tore my eyes away from the mirror, looking instead at the silver door handle.

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"Just checking. Found anything you like yet?"

"Actually, yeah. I did." I said, glancing at my reflection once more before turning again, placing my hand on the handle, the metal cold against my skin. I hesitated for a moment before turning it and peeking out at Bruce, his back against the wall across from me. "Do you...want to see?" I asked slowly. He looked at me, a bit taken aback, and then shrugged his shoulders.

"Sure. Okay." he smiled slightly. I pushed the door open fully and stepped out into the narrow hall of the dressing room, immediately feeling self conscious. Why was I putting myself out like this? I should have turned around and gone back in to try everything else on, yet here I was, displaying myself. I opened my mouth to apologize for potentially making Bruce uncomfortable, but his expression stopped me. A warm smile had grown on his face, his eyes sparkling ever so slightly as he examined the dress.

"This looks wonderful," he said, meeting my eyes. "You have good taste."

"You really think so?"

"I do."

"Thank you...!" I smiled, a happy feeling swelling through me. "I was a bit worried that it wouldn't fit in the sides..."

"Well, let's see." Bruce gently took my arms and lifted them to the side, turning me a bit, his eyes focused on the stitching in the dress. I held my breath and stood still, waiting until he turned me back forward and dropped my arms.

"Looks exactly right to me. Like it was fitted just for you."

"I thought so too. So, you think I should buy it?"

"Absolutely,"

"I'm afraid to look at the price tag..." I mumbled, suddenly aware of the little strip of paper that was tied to the zipper.

"Don't even look at it. Really, Tony's a billionaire. These kinds of things...they're nothing to him. I wouldn't worry about it at all."

"I guess he does kind of owe me for pushing me off a building," I muttered, smirking a bit. Bruce chuckled.

"There you go," he said. I grinned and swiftly turned around, heading back into the dressing room and shutting the door tight. I slipped out of the gown and surveyed the pile of clothes still waiting to be tried on, picking one at random out of the bunch and pulling it on. After a few it was clear that I was making a show out of myself for Bruce, strutting out of the room and twirling around in front of him, waiting for his approval. Each time Bruce would compliment the fit or design of the dress, his smile never faltering. The people passing in and out of the store probably thought we were together, a few of them shooting us looks as we laughed at how much of a fool I was making myself. But, honestly, I didn't think I could see Bruce that way, and I knew he felt the same. I could feel his admiration for me, but it wasn't romantic. It was...warm. His show of kindness was alarming and new, but it wasn't bad. It was something I had craved my entire life. When I was with my father, all I wanted was acceptance...something I never once felt from him. Being here with Bruce, I felt I was getting that; like, after all these years, I finally had a father figure that admired me and wanted to help me. Of course, Bruce was far from my father. But there was something about that look on his face, every time I ran out of that room to show him something new, something that made me feel special, that felt close enough to me. For the first time since I had arrived, I didn't feel I needed to go back to my father. Everything here, with these people, was so much better than what I was used to, and I didn't want to leave that. Never.

In an hour and a half we were out of that store, bags in hand, headed to our next destination. We hit at least 10 stores before I felt I finally had everything I needed. I could have shopped all day, but I could tell Bruce was getting tired, so I gave it a rest. There would be other opportunities to shop, I realized. I was no longer confined. I had free will.

"Are you sure you don't need anything else?" Bruce asked, as we walked back to the car we came in. I shook my head, giving him a smile.

"I'm okay. This is more than enough." Bruce popped the trunk and I shoved my bags in the back, barely able to fit everything in. I slammed the trunk closed, making sure nothing had a chance to fall out, and made my way up to the front, sliding into the seat and buckling myself in. Bruce got in next to me and started the ignition, putting the car in drive. He glanced over at me, his hand still on the key.

"Do you know how to drive a car, Annabelle?" he asked. I flushed and looked down at my hands, running one thumb over the other.

"Not exactly," I said quietly, taking a deep breath.

"Not exactly..?"

"...no. I don't." I admitted. He chuckled beside me.

"That's nothing to be ashamed of. We'll have to get you a car and teach you. Not that you'll need to actually drive much around here. You can get a taxi or other means of transportation. Still, it's a nice skill to have." I nodded slowly.

"Thanks."

"Mhm." With that he put the car in reverse, pulling out into the busy traffic behind us. We sat in silence, the buzz of the car engine the only sound, minus the few car horns here and there. I took in a deep breath and looked out the side window, watching the people walk along the sidewalk, living out their lives. I wondered what it was like to be them, walking around the streets of Manhattan, busy with thoughts of work and family and whatever else it was that city people thought about. I'd never had to worry about any of that. The only thing I was used to worrying about was if my father was in a good mood. Beyond that, nothing much else mattered. I was so different from these people around me, their minds full of life. My mind was only full of doubt, and the occasional curiosity.

"I owe you one, Bruce." I said, after a while, my mind still wandering.

"You don't owe me anything, Annabelle. I was happy to do this." He shot me a smile and then went back to watching the road, tapping his fingers across the steering wheel. I smiled to myself faintly, resting my forehead against the glass.

"Is the city pretty at night?" I asked.

"Some parts of it, yeah. Why?"

"I've just...always wanted to see the city lights at night. I could see the faint lights of Tokyo from my house, but, that's usually as close as I got. And, of course, I was wandering around New York the other night...but I was too disoriented and tired to even look at the lights." I closed my eyes, turning my neck a bit so that the side of my head was against the window.

"We can all go, one night. How does that sound? We can even go to Times Square."

"That sounds amazing..." I said, a bit on the quieter side. I could just imagine standing under all those lights, the energy surrounding them so bright and soft like silk. The moon would shine brilliantly over the tops of the buildings, the warm light pooling across the streets. I had never wanted something so bad, at that moment, the image too irresistible to shake. And, with all of the Avengers by my side, the night would be even more magical. Even if something did happen, and my father did come back to get me, I would make sure to visit there first.

We pulled into the garage of the tower and I unbuckled my seat belt, leaving the car. I was still dazed and drunk off of happiness from the day I had experienced as I strolled to the back and pulled all of my bags out from the trunk, nearly spilling everything in the process. Bruce quickly grabbed a stray bag that was hanging precariously from my arms, taking a few more bags from me before heading inside. I followed, using my elbow to shut the trunk. We came to the main room, where nearly everyone was sitting around. The T.V. was blaring, the news flashing across the screen.

"Get everything you needed?" Tony asked, looking over the back of the couch at me. I nodded and smiled.

"Yes, I did. Thank you so much, Tony. I'm so grateful."

"No problem, kid." He smirked.

"I'm going to go change," I said nodding at him before booking up the stairs. I was eager to get into something more comfortable, or, at least something that actually fit. I entered a room and set my bags down, sifting through them until I found something nice to wear. I pulled out a light blue blouse and some white shorts, stripping off Pepper's all-too-tight-for-me clothes and setting them aside. I put on my new outfit, brushing out a few wrinkles before setting the bags to the side, making sure to fold Pepper's clothes neatly over my arm before I left the room and headed back down. There was one wrinkle in the shirt that I just couldn't seem to get flat, no matter how many times I smoothed my hand over it. I knew the clothes were going to be thrown into a washer—probably a really high tech, fancy-pants one—but there was some part of me that couldn't stand to return the clothes while they were...indecent. I mumbled to myself and pushed my hand down on the fabric, simultaneously missing the first step to the stairs and losing my footing. A weird sound escaped my lips as I stumbled forward, the back of my heel knocking against the second step as I tried to regain my footing. Pepper's clothes flew out of my hands and landed a few stairs below, strewn about, across the steps. In a flash of movement, and hair, Thor was suddenly in front of me, grabbing my arms to steady me out. I blinked in surprise and tried to catch my breath, my heart racing, pounding rapidly in my chest. I raised a hand and rested it above my skin, my breathing slightly stunted. Thor, who was standing near the bottom of the stairs, caught my arm before I fell, steadying me out.

"Are you alright, Annabelle Green?" Thor asked, giving me a once over to check for injuries. I gasped for breath and nodded quickly, inhaling deeply before finally calming down. It felt as if my heart were going to beat itself right out of my chest; right through the skin.

"I'm okay." I said finally. "Thank you."

"You seem to enjoy falling," he said with a smirk, and I was brought back to last night, when falling _up _the stairs had been the problem.

"Yeah, I'm kind of clumsy, I guess." I laughed under my breath, inhaling once more. "I'll try not to stumble into you anymore."

"It is no problem. At least you know I am here to catch you." His smile broadened. I felt the blood rush to my face and quickly stepped past him, bending down—carefully—to pick up the clothes. By now they were a wrinkled mess again.

"I'm going to head downstairs and give these back," I said, flashing him a flustered smile before making my way down the remaining steps and into the living room.

The large TV was turned on, images flashing across the screen, the sound set loud. I folded the clothes over the arm of the couch and then rested my elbows against the back, looking up at the big screen.

"...news? You're watching the news? Not something that's actually entertaining?" I asked, mildly disappointed. I had spent my whole life watching the news, next to other stupid 'educational programming' shows, and I was hoping that there would at least be something good to watch here. I guess I was wrong.

"If you don't like it, then you can leave." Tony said, turning his neck and flashing me a grin. I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth to protest, but was suddenly interrupted by the jingling sound of the doorbell.

"Someone is at the door, sir." Jarvis piped up, to which Tony sighed.

"Yeah, yeah, I heard it. Anyone want to get that?" He glanced around the room at the few other faces and then at me. When no one else answered, I slowly raised my hand.

"Yeah, sure, I'll get it," I said. I jogged around the corner and to the front door, pulling it open and putting on my best smile. "Stark Tower, how may I he-..." My words trailed off and my spirits sank to an all time low as I saw the figure towering in the doorway. I backed up slowly and let go of the support of the door, letting my hand fall beside me. My feet scuffed against the tile as I backed away, but the figure I knew all too well grabbed me by the arms and yanked me forward, squeezing my skin. Just being close to him made my heart beat quickly and irregularly, my difficulty breathing returning. I examined his face, that chiseled, German face, and then did something that I didn't expect. I screamed.

"Annie, please, contain yourself. It's like you aren't even happy to see me," he murmured, his voice low and intimidating. I broke off my scream and looked away from him, letting my thick hair cover my face as tears sprang to my eyes.

"What are you doing here, father?" I asked, my voice shaking. He began to say something, a German sound rolling off his tongue, before he was suddenly interrupted by Steve, who sprinted into the room.

"Annabelle? Are you okay?" he asked, halting immediately when he saw the situation. In a few seconds the others jogged in, looking concerned. I squeezed my eyes shut, silently praying that they would just go away, and leave my father to take me back. I didn't want all of the trouble I knew this was going to cause. I couldn't open my trembling lips to say anything, though, so I only stood there looking pathetic. My father's menacing laugh slipped from his mouth quietly, his breath hot against my face.

"Well, well. What have we here? The Avengers, if I'm not mistaken. How interesting that they took you in here." Father growled the last bit, letting go of my shoulders. Now was my chance to get away, to run, but I couldn't move an inch. My father turned back to me, his eyes narrowing with what looked to be disgust. "You've disobeyed and disrespected me, Annabelle. And, not only that, but you've cost me almost a million dollars in damage to my lab. Are you aware of how much money that is?"

"Yes, sir," I said quietly.

"Then you should be aware also of how awful of a thing you did. And things like that do not come without consequences." I swallowed hard, clenching my fists.

"You kept me locked up there, and..." I trailed off, my father's internal energy spiking violently. I knew what that meant. I tensed prematurely, before my father's hand even collided with my jaw bone, knocking my head violently to the side from the force of the slap. My cheek immediately stung, and I knew a red mark was quickly making itself visible. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter and hung my head, embarrassed and ashamed.

"You can't do that to her...!" I recognized Steve as the one who was yelling, obviously enraged by the situation. "I will make sure that you will never hit her again! Ever! And if you do, I will make sure you never live another day in freedom!" he spat. I appreciated his dedication, but I doubted any of his words would faze my father. My father was manipulative, clever, and cruel, and he would always find a way out of whatever situation he was put into.

"Oh, really? Well, you are not so innocent yourself. Are you aware that the police have been searching for Annabelle? She's a missing person now. As of this morning, I informed the police that she was still alive. Because I knew she was." My father was already weaving his web, carefully trying to turn the situation around.

"So? She's an adult. She can go wherever she wants. We aren't responsible for her coming here. She came here by choice." I was surprised that no one other than Steve was speaking up, though maybe the rest of them were just surveying the predicament to see if there was a logical way to do things. Steve was just yelling, and yelling wasn't going to fix anything.

"You're right. But even adults can be kidnapped. And your 'kidnapping' of my daughter can be all over the headlines."

"We didn't kidnap her!"  
>"Oh, but I can make it seem that way. You'll be on my side...right Annabelle?" My father turned to me. An icy chill ran through my veins as the group turned to look at me, waiting for my answer.<p>

"I-I..." I was at war with myself. I loved the Avengers with all my heart...all of them had been so kind to me for the short period of time I had been here. But, my father was my father. Even if I did hate him, he had always controlled my life, and he still did. Honestly, I was afraid of what he would do to get me to side with him, and I didn't want to cause anyone any trouble. The last thing I wanted was for anyone to get hurt. "Yes, sir." I whimpered. Steve growled in anger and punched the wall next to him, sending his fist through it. Making him angry was something that I would regret my entire life, but this is what I had to do. He didn't realize that I was saving him a boatload of trouble, and maybe even pain. I wasn't worth that much.

"That's a good girl." My father grasped my arm and pulled me up from my slouched position, settling me next to him. "Now, Annabelle and I are going home now. And no one will hear of any of this. Understood?"

"Never." Steve muttered angrily.

"Pity." He mumbled, in German. I quickly snapped my face towards him, watching as he reached his hand down and fumbled in his pocket, bringing out a sizable knife. I recognized this as one of my grandmother Hana's family heirlooms; an old dagger that she used to carry around during her days in the war. Fear shot through me.

"Father, don't hurt anyone! Please!" I yelled frantically, grabbing at his arm. He knocked me back and lifted the blade to my throat swiftly, silencing me. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, trying to stay calm. My father always had the perfect plan. No one was going to make a move if they thought my life was at risk.

"We are leaving now. Don't protest unless you want to add yet another scar to Annabelle's skin. Lord knows she has too many already." The room fell silent, silent enough to hear a pin drop on the roof. My eyes flicked to Steve, who had frozen where he was standing. Even he wouldn't risk this. My father nodded at them and slowly began to back out of the doorway, the knife still pressed up against my bare skin, raising goosebumps on my arms.

"Uh, yeah, slight problem with that," Tony spoke up before we were out of earshot, his boyish smirk lining his face. My father stopped, waiting. "You see," Tony continued, "we have a hulk."

"Yes, I'm aware of Dr. Banner's unfortunate...condition...but even he can't stop-" He was cut off by an ear splitting roar that came from behind us, making me flinch. My father turned his head slightly to the side, cursing under his breath. "That might be a problem, actually." he mumbled. For once, my father seemed caught off guard, something I had never before seen in all my years. But he wasn't completely helpless; I could tell he was still thinking. He was going to gain something out of this meeting no matter what, just like with every situation, though I didn't know what he could possibly gain at this point. The trudging footsteps of the Hulk shook the ground as he got closer and closer, my father still contemplating what to do. He spun me around and held me firmly by one shoulder, giving me a strange look that I had never seen from him before. "I'll be back one day, Annabelle. When you're ready." he spat out in German, moving the knife from my neck and plunging it deep into my heart. My eyes widened and my mouth gaped open with pain, though no sound escaped my lips. "You'll realize then how much of a danger you are by yourself and come back. Know that I'm the only one that can save you from yourself." he continued, releasing the handle of the knife and letting me drop. I collapsed onto my knees, my corneas burning, my heart bursting with intense pain. I could hear the sound of footsteps as my father fled the scene , clearly hoping to get away before Hulk got to him. I tried to open my mouth to say something, anything at all, but I couldn't form words. I stayed frozen, my eyes still burning and my body throbbing. I was only slightly aware of the shadowy figures that gathered around me, panic dancing around their normal energy signatures.

"Annabelle? Annabelle are you okay?! Annabelle!" I couldn't make out who was talking in the blend of voices, and my vision slowly started to fizz out and disintegrate. I managed a pained smile and tried to say 'I'm okay', but couldn't keep myself up any longer, falling back onto the pavement leading up to the steps of Stark Tower. The earsplitting roar from The Hulk was the last sound that rung through my ears until I lost consciousness. And then...nothing.


	10. Chapter 10

"You see, if you draw the ears like this, it looks more like a real bunny." My cousin, Portia, slowly erased the ears I had halfheartedly drawn and replaced them with her own set, kinking the ends slightly. She turned to me and grinned, her dimples plainly visible. Her black hair hung around her face, tied in a messy, loose, ponytail. It was easy to see that she and I were extremely different, her in her t-shirt and cut off shorts, and me in my teal summer dress. I sat up straight in my chair while she sat slumped over, as if she had to be as close as possible to the table in front of us. Really, the only sign of us being related were our mossy green eyes that we had inherited from our grandmother. "Get it?" she asked, tapping her finger on the paper above the ears she had drawn. "Now you try." She turned the notebook around and slid it across the table towards me, popping her gum once. I took the pencil from her and examined the poorly drawn rabbit, images of real rabbits flashing through my head. This thing was a sorry excuse for a drawing, but, I wasn't interested in fixing it.

"I'm not very good at drawing," I mumbled, the excuse I gave every time. She scoffed and reached for the notebook and pencil back, snatching them out of my hands and huffing dramatically. Even at the ripe age of eleven, Portia was already spicy and overly-dramatic. I felt I was more mature than her, even though I was a couple years younger.

"Yes you are! I've seen you draw. You're amazing at it! But, fine. If you don't want to draw a bunny, you don't have to." Portia had always been stubborn and loud, which was always amplified when we spoke in German. I saw the way our cook would stare into the room when Portia went on one of her excited rants, the German words sounding harsh and cold even though what she was saying was nothing of the sort. Of course, she had no way to know this; she only spoke Japanese. The poor woman looked at Portia like some sort of intimidating dictator, instead of the little girl she was. Then again, Portia wasn't that far off from a dictator. She could go on and on, slamming her fists on the table as she spoke about something she was passionate about, arguing her point. I never butted in, sitting quietly even when the subject she was spouting about had already been disproved. I couldn't speak up, because she was _always_ right. I'd let her accept that.

To a lot of people this would come off as annoying, but I found it comical. Watching Portia's shenanigans was a nice distraction, the few times the did come over.

She brought the pencil to her lips and nibbled at the eraser, pondering what animal to mutilate next. My eyes wandered from the page and around the room, looking for something to keep me entertained. These days, simply sitting around and drawing just wasn't cutting it, like it used to. I used to be entertained for hours by a sketchbook and pencil. But now...now there were a lot of other things running through my mind that made me want more. My brain was always working...always chipping away at new ideas.

"Hey, Annie Bell? Do you like horses? I bet you I could draw one of those. They can't be too hard, right? I mean, you just draw the legs first...and then the body..."

"Mhmm." I responded, resting my chin in my hands. I soon lost the rest of her conversation, preoccupied by the shadows that moved every so often under the doorway. They flicked in and out with the movement on the other side, where my father and aunt spoke in hushed whispers. I wished I could hear them, somehow, though I didn't need to listen to know that they were talking about me. They were always talking about me.

"Oh, shoot! That doesn't look like a horse at all!" Portia yelled, snapping me out of my dazed thoughts. I tore my eyes from the doorway and looked first at her, then at the sheet of paper in front of her. The creature she had drawn in no way resembled any animal I was familiar with, and I had to put a hand over my mouth to keep myself from laughing out loud. Portia puffed up her cheeks, clearly insulted. "Well, I tried!"

"Here," I said, holding up my hands and sitting a little straighter, "Let me show you what a horse looks like." Portia's face lit up, her dimples even deeper. She knew what I was about to do. I didn't do it very often, but it was one of the things that got Portia really excited. And, honestly, it excited me too. I inhaled and closed my eyes, images of horses with flowing manes and shiny hooves dancing across my vision. I could feel my fingertips heating up, that familiar warm feeling rushing through my blood as sparks danced across my arms. The feeling that ran through me, pure joy and peace, extended out through my hands. I opened my eyes, my corneas burning with light, and watched as the figure of a little electric horse began to form. Portia watched with wonder from across the table, the snapping lights of the growing little horse reflecting in her eyes.

"Oh, Annie Bell, I love it when you do your magic..." she said quietly, half dazed, mesmerized. I smiled widely, looking back at my hands, the little horse almost fully visible now. He was so close to being done, projected like a little life size model that I could bend to my will, but something stopped the process. My father's voice raised on the other side of the door, his anger seemingly spiking and spreading even into this room. My little horse vanished, my 'magic' gone. Portia's smile faded and she turned to look at the door across the room from us, where the shadows had stopped moving. In a moment the door flung open, my father storming out, his massive figure flooding the room with its shadow.

"If you're going to degrade my parenting, then get out." he said, his voice still raised. My aunt followed behind him, her face flushed in anger.

"Fine!" she yelled, her back to us. It amazed me how similar my aunt and father looked, despite being born a few years apart. They looked like they could be twins; they had the same looking build, face shape, hair color, and eye color. Even though this was true, I had never met two people so different. Even Portia and I seemed identical compared to those two.

"Get out of my house." my father spat. I frowned and looked to Portia, who was busy trying to focus on drawing her horse again, tears brimming in her eyes. I wanted to reach out to her, to try to excuse my fathers words and actions and make her feel better, but I knew that wouldn't help at all.

"Come on, Portia. We have to go now, baby." my aunt said, helping Portia to her feet and leading her to the door.

"But I was going to watch Annie Bell do her magic!" she complained, looking at me sadly as she was dragged away. I flinched, feeling my father's instant irritation at the subject. I slowly turned my eyes towards him as my aunt and Portia exited the house, leaving just my father and I in this suddenly cramped feeling room.

"You were using your magic?" my father asked, his teeth somewhat clenched. I swallowed hard, standing up and brushing down the fabric of my little teal dress.

"I was just going to show Portia how to draw a horse..." I said quietly, trying not to cower as my father stepped closer.

"I told you never to use that. Especially not when your mother is so sick. Do you want her to die?!"

"N-No!" I sputtered, my heart pounding harshly in my chest. I met my father's eyes, his filled with hatred and almost...worry. He lifted his hand high, and I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath in.

Smack.

My eyes fluttered open and focused on the tiny detailed rivets on the ceiling, a wave of nausea rolling over me.

"Father..." I mumbled, the memory buzzing around in my head and clouding me from reality.

"He is gone. Do not worry." The voice startled me and I jolted up, a splitting pain running through my chest. I let out a strange sound and fell still, my breathing heavy. My eyes flicked to the side of my bed where the voice had come from, and I felt my body relax.

Thor.

He made a pained face and reached out to pat my shoulder a little. "I am very sorry. I should have made sure you knew I was here. It is currently my watch."

"Your...watch?" I asked weakly, my voice barely a whisper. I cleared my throat and turned my head towards him, trying to sit up a bit more. He nodded his head, brushing some of his golden hair behind his ear.

"One of us is watching you at all times to insure your safety. It is my turn now."

"I understand. But, I really don't think I need to be watched. I'm fine." I lifted my stiff body and set myself up against the backboard of the bed, trying to ignore the shooting pain up my abdomen. I forced a pained smile. "...just some mild pain." Thor gave me a look, and I sighed.

"You were...sparking. Some of us thought you were to explode." he said.

"Explode, huh...? Well, wouldn't that fit in right with my luck," I muttered, trying to take a deep breath. "What time is it?"

"Seven forty two, A.M."

"So I guess I got a good night's sleep..." I lifted my arms and examined them, the memory of the tiny horse still plain in my mind. No, not a memory...a dream. I had only just acquired my powers from the explosion. I wouldn't have had them way back then. All of this recent nonsense was messing with my mind.

"Actually, a few nights of sleep. You have been out for quite some time. Dr. Banner says it is from the shock of your wound. He seemed concerned that you might never wake."

"Really..." I let out a deep sigh and lifted one of my shaky hands, running it through my hair. It was matted with knots, but I didn't even want to bother untangling them with my fingers. For once, I didn't care how I looked. Looks didn't really matter anymore. Not now, at least.

Feeling like the silence of the room was growing more daunting and awkward by the second, I cleared my throat again and shuffled my feet around slightly. "So, you probably think I'm a lot of work, huh?" I said. I gave him a playful smile, trying to get my mind off everything. If someone had given me pain killers, they weren't working. I needed all the distraction I could get.

"Not really."

"Oh, come on. Do you know of anyone that gets into as much trouble as I do?"  
>"Have you met my brother?"<p>

"...no?"  
>"He's more work. Trust me."<p>

"Sure, alright. So, you don't like your brother?"  
>"I do...it's just...he's...well...he has killed people and tried to take over the world. On multiple occasions."<p>

"...yeah, I see how that could be a lot of work." I smirked a bit to myself, adjusting myself on my pillow. I had known that someone tried to overthrow the world a few years back, but I had no idea that man was Thor's brother. At least...I didn't think I knew. That was around the time of my trip to New York with my father, which was still completely clouded over in my brain. I couldn't remember much about that time period at all. Maybe I myself had been trapped during that invasion. And, maybe I had gotten a good whack to the head. That would explain my memory loss, at least. I glanced at Thor, making a mental note to ask him more about the invasion later, when I felt better.

I took a deep breath, looking around the room.

"Can I get you anything?" Thor asked, watching my every movement with his brilliant eyes. I shrugged my shoulders, twiddling my thumbs.

"Is there anything I could read?" I asked. I was hoping that maybe if I had my face buried in a book he would stop staring at me.

"Uh...read...yes..." His eyes scanned the room, a determined look on his face. I sighed, smiling a little to myself at his effort.

"Never mind. It's okay." I said, after a few moments.

"Are you sure? If you require some kind of entertainment, I can find it for you."

"It's fine. I don't need anything."  
>"Would you like to talk? I know I am not the greatest at communication when it comes to talking to people from Midgard, but...I've been told I'm a good listener."<p>

"I don't really have much to say," I looked down at my hands, running one thumb over the other.  
>"Oh, I am sure that is not true. You seem very interesting." I saw him smile his grand smile from the corner of my eye, his eyes sparkling. He really did find me intriguing, apparently. The attention was a little nerve wracking.<p>

"Really, my life is boring. I never did anything.

"Nothing?"

"Not really. Father always wanted me to stay home. I had a lot of school work to do when I was young...so, I guess that kept me busy."

"You studied a lot?"

"Yeah. That's...basically been my whole life. I've always been able to learn pretty quickly, so I studied a lot of different things. I had many different teachers and professors that would come in and lecture and give me work, and I'd do it. Even when father couldn't afford to hire instructors, during some of the...rough times...I still studied by myself. I like learning. Always have."

"Did you ever study Asgard? Norse mythology?" Thor asked, looking even more intrigued. He sat forward a little in his chair, leaning closer to me. I swallowed and took a deep breath, trying not to look too hard at his beautiful, chiseled face. I could only hope that my cheeks weren't turning pink.

"I read a few mythology books, yeah. They were pretty interesting. I'm sure they were mostly silly stories, though, compared to what you and the other Asgardians have actually done..."

"You would be surprised how many odd things my people have done in the past." He smirked, leaning back again. I let out a quiet breath of relief. "So, you are very knowledgeable in many subjects. That is very impressive for a Midgardian, considering how little you've lived. I know scholars who've only mastered a few things in their centuries of life. It seems you have outdone them, Annabelle." He smiled a bit, and this time I could definitely feel my face heating up. I quickly tilted my head to get my hair to cover my cheeks, though the knots and twists made my hair stiff and almost impossible to work with.

"I wouldn't say that," I said quickly, quietly, "I haven't really _mastered_ anything. I'm just...fairly decent at a lot of things."

"Sounds like you could give Stark a run for his money," a new voice called from the doorway, my cheeks heating even more. I glanced up to find Steve, in a t-shirt and dark jeans, a smirk on his face.

"No, definitely not." I stated, bringing a hand up to uselessly try to straighten out my hair. Of course looks mattered now, and I looked like hell.

"Thor, Stark wants you downstairs. Apparently Fury is on his way, and he needs some back up."

"Fury?" I asked.

"Should you be greeting Fury as well?" Thor asked, ignoring me.

"..Stark told me to stay out of it. We argued a little about it. I'm surprised you couldn't hear that from up here, actually." He mumbled a few choice words before continuing. "But, we decided that I'll swap watches with you. You go down. I'll stay here."

"Very well." Thor stood, his chair tipping and falling backwards onto the floor with the grand motion. Asgardians apparently were never gentle with their movements...at least, not Thor. He turned and stared at the chair for a moment, as if hoping it would set itself back up. After it didn't, he threw it back into an upright position, startling me a little. With one over-exaggerated turn he was out of the room, off to do his business. I blinked and shook my head, sinking back into my pillow. Just being in the same room as someone with so much energy in them made me jittery, and Thor definitely was very energetic.

Steve took his place in the chair, adjusting himself a bit before sitting back and getting comfortable. I tried to avoid looking at him, hoping that would somehow keep him from seeing how awful I surely looked.

"So who's Fury?" I asked, still keeping my face turned away from him.

"He's the director of SHIELD. He's a pretty powerful influence with a big personality to boot." Steve explained, taking a deep breath in. "He's a little much, for my taste."

"Why is he here?" I shifted my eyes a little to try to examine Steve's face, finding that he wasn't even looking in my direction. He seemed to be focused on the wall to the side of him, like he was deep in thought.

"He visits, sometimes." he answered, and I saw his jaw shift, clenching. I watched him for a moment, confused, until suddenly it sunk in.

"...he's here for me." I said, more for myself than for him. His eyes shifted down a bit, confirming my suspicion.

"Tony will get him to go away. Don't worry." he said quietly.

"What's the big deal? He's not a bad guy, right?" I pushed myself up a bit, my pain easing more and more by the second. Maybe now, finally, the drugs were working.

"He'll want to take you back to SHIELD. Have you tested in a bunch of different things. Figure out what makes you tick. It's just a bother, really. You don't need to deal with that."

"Sure." I turned my eyes away from him again. There was something he wasn't telling me. And this 'something' was obviously very important, considering he and the others were trying to cover it, and me, up. Why was going to SHIELD such a bad thing? As far as I knew, SHIELD was supposed to be full of the good guys. And didn't the Avengers work out of SHIELD?

"You'll be better off here." Steve commented after a moment, as if he knew the gears in my head were turning in the silence. I nodded my head in response, running a hand over the comforter.

"Could you get me something?" I asked, looking at him, this time making sure to catch his attention and meet his eyes.

"What do you need?"

"Tea. Any kind is good. It just calms my nerves."

"I can do that. Anything else?"

"I think I'm going to take a shower. So, maybe take your time with that tea? I'll only be about ten minutes. I just...don't want to embarrass the both of us and have you walk in on me..when I'm..."

"Yeah, yeah. Yeah. Yes. I'll take my time." he sputtered, looking a bit flustered already. Ha, him and I both. Just the thought of that situation made my heart beat a little bit faster and my face feel flushed.

"Thanks," I started, taking a bit of a calming breath, "I really appreciate it."

"Not a problem. Holler if you need anything." he stood up and made his way towards the door, pausing for a minute. "...do you need help getting to the bathroom?"

"No, no. I'll be okay. Thank you." I faked a weak smile and he nodded, leaving the room and shutting the door behind him. I waited a moment to make sure he was gone before twisting and lifting myself out of bed, standing and stretching my hands above my head. The drugs were really working now; I felt great. I walked across the room and into the bathroom, my legs stiff from being in bed for so long. I glanced over at my reflection, my hair a huge jumbled mess, like a large bird nest nestled atop my head. I almost laughed aloud at myself, despite my embarrassment at the thought that a god and a super soldier saw me looking so ragged. I couldn't remember ever looking this bad; I usually tried to take care in my appearance, even when I didn't have to. This was a train wreck. I turned the handle, the water spurting from the shower head, almost instantly warm. I stripped off my clothes and gave myself a determined look in the mirror before stepping in, the water soothing against my chest. Funny, I hadn't even checked my wound. In fact, I hadn't even thought about it, nor did I have any interest in knowing what it looked like. I had a feeling looking at what my father was capable of doing to me was going to bring down my confidence and send me straight back to bed, and I didn't want to chance that. I was going to meet this Fury. And, finally, I was going to be a voice for myself.

"What did you give me?"

"What do you mean? I didn't give you anything."


End file.
